Decadent
by Abreaction
Summary: Plagued by an insatiable desire to eat the fluffy cakes bound for a party, Allen is faced with an ultimatum. He must somehow survive his sugar withdrawal, or consume them and face his lover's "punishment," which will probably render him immobile...
1. Gluttony

There were cakes everywhere. Delicacies coated with thick strawberry and vanilla icing, pies with melting chocolate chips dotting the top, and cupcakes with nuts gently peaking out from the dough. They were floating all around Allen, stacking themselves at his feet, resting in the palm of his hand, and brushing their sweet bodies against his lips – alluring the tempted. This was heaven- a pure saturated fat paradise that would end with his arteries clogged and a sudden-death heart attack. Allen's tongue slid over his lips.

Grasping handfuls of the dainties, Allen brought them to his mouth that craved them, inhaling their delicious aromas. Tarts, pies, soufflés, all at his disposal.

"Heaven…" Allen murmured into the frosting of the birthday cake.

"Bean-sprout," The cake suddenly replied harshly, spouting arms and legs, and roughly grabbing Allen's shoulders.

"W-what?" The famished boy exclaimed, wondering why the inanimate pastry sounded oddly like his slightly-estranged, sandpaper-of-a-lover, Kanda. Perhaps the cakes discovered his true, carnivorous intentions…

"Bean-sprout!" All of the delicacies chanted in a pastry-religious mantra, surrounding Allen on melting-chocolate legs, with doughy arms clenching his body, sporadically shaking him from all sides. "Wake up!"

"No!" Allen's head swung from side to side like a swing-set on steroid in kamikaze wind, as he attempted to get the pastries off from his frame. From his peripheral vision, he saw the glinting of all-too-familiar silverware in the lopsided hands of the cakes. A knife.

"No!"

"Jeez, bean-sprout, I have to go to work!"

Allen's eyes snapped open, his body covered in cold sweat from under his boyfriend's oversized sweatshirt. Why exactly Kanda continually promoted his fetish for flora by calling his living partner of six months the name of a strange plant.

"It was just a nightmare…" He mumbled, before his senses picked up on the strong hands grasping his arms. He jolted up in bed, only to come face to face with the cause of his tribulation.

"Did you dream about getting eaten by freaking cakes again, idiot?"

Averting his eyes from his lover's blowing glare, Allen nodded slowly.

"Fucking idiot. Dreaming about stupid cannibal-cakes," Allen heard Kanda mumble as he sat up from the bed. "And don't use my sweatshirts as pajamas," he snorted. Sitting up, Kanda grabbed the black comb, which Allen had purchased from him last year and served as his most prized possession next to his beloved pocketknife- from the bedside table.

"I have to go to work," The apparently agitated man grumbled once more as if Allen had a hearing deficiency. As if to prove his point, Kanda emphatically ran the comb through his ridiculously extravagant, ebony tresses.

"Then go," Allen groaned, wrapping the blankets around his small frame once more, and closing his eyes. "No one wants you here anyway."

"Tch, shut up," Kanda retorted, grimacing as the comb's bristles ran into a blockade of knots in his hair. "And don't go back to sleep," he demanded, striking the younger boy's hip. Sitting up with a shriek, Allen smacked his pillow against his lover's equally absurd bicep. "Stop being so useless and help me get dressed."

Rolling his eyes, Allen had no choice but to comply. Kanda always took a good twenty minutes combing his irrational hair until he saw fit, and if he didn't get him his clothes, he would be a good forty minutes late for work – ten minutes too late to use the "I was stuck in traffic" excuse.

Allen vowed to one day crop Kanda's hair to his chin while he slept as he staggered out of bed – still a bit shaken from his disturbing dream. Stumbling towards the mirrored closet, he yanked out a brown tie, a yellow and pink shirt, and lime green pants and then presented it to his fuming paramour.

"I hate you," Kanda contended, as he threw the same pillow at Allen's achromatic head that served as a target. Allen sighed as he returned to the closet to pick out clothes that wouldn't reveal the fact that Kanda had been dating and living with another man for the past six months.

"Oi, Sprout," Kanda called as Allen threw black pants over his shoulder.

"What is it?" Allen replied, placing a white polo on his steadily growing pile of potential clothes.

"Today is that damn party."

"Party?" The boy's question was muffled through the candidates of ties in between his teeth, due to the fact that his arms and shoulders were full. He had no recollection of any parties coming up, and usually he was on top of upcoming events, always having to remind Kanda of birthdays or anniversaries. Hell, Kanda had forgotten Allen's birthday every year until he began to buy him de-motivational calendars every year.

"Yeah, stupid," Kanda retorted. Allen smirked as the familiar sounds of Kanda's pain as he struggled with the hairbrush filled his ears. "Lavi and Lenalee's engagement party. It's at 6:00 tonight. Even _I_ knew that."

Allen mentally punched himself after hearing the satisfaction in his lover's voice as he reveled in the fact that he knew an important event while his usually-up-to-date partner did not.

"I always thought that Lavi was as gay as the goddamn rainbow," Kanda muttered, remembering his old college days with his sexually ambiguous roommate, as Allen situated himself on the bed in front of him, and laid out the clothing applicants.

"I used to think that he was as fruity as a citrus," Allen shrugged, envisioning all of the times where the flamboyant redhead would randomly throw his arms around Allen, lovingly braid Kanda's hair, or would always offer to play strip poker on Saturdays, stealing Kanda's abandoned clothes in the process.

"And Lenalee always seemed to have the hots for plants like you."

"Why don't you go stuff a sock in your mouth and choke?"

"Tch," Kanda grunted, as he picked a cotton shirt from the candidates, and pulled it over his head. "You were being fucking stupid - as _always_, and you told Lenalee and that Ass-Rabbit that you would fucking _bake_ the desserts for them. I refuse to lower myself to bake fucking cookies, so you have to do it."

Allen blinked.

"I said that?"

"Do you have ears, Sprout?"

"Maybe that's why I keep on having those pastry-mares," Allen thought aloud, twirling the end of one of the ties in his hands as he unwillingly remembered his unnerving dream. "Something's probably going to go wrong while I'm baking—"

"Fucking get this shirt unstuck!" The obstinate man interrupted as he tugged at the shirt whose button was currently caught in his locks.

Sighing exasperatedly, Allen performed the difficult task of weaving the feminine man's hair out from under the button, while his partner's agitated grouses filled his ears.

"So, you have to bake this sugary shit-" Kanda's knuckles turned white as he death-gripped the sheets, while Allen unmercifully yanked the shirt off of his head, tearing off a great chunk of his hair in the process. "No, bean-sprout. Don't put that hair-ripping shirt back in the closet. Wrap it up. We'll give it to that anal advocate as a present."

"You mean Lavi?" Allen chimed, quite impressed that his partner knew such advanced words.

"Tch, who else?"

"Okay," The naïve boy shrugged his pallid shoulders. "How hard can baking a cake or two be?" Allen always loved baking, well, namely the food that the oven produced, so he would manage.

"_Allen_," Kanda spoke, venom dripping off of his words as he abruptly snatched Allen's wrist, unceremoniously slamming his back into the plush of the bedding.

"What the hell, Kanda?" Allen struggled to free his aching hand, his temper rising with every passing second.

"Don't even _think_ about eating the desserts," He seethed, his grip on Allen's wrist intensifying with every word that escaped his lips.

Allen's pupils dilated, and his breath came out in ragged gasps as Kanda expressed his revelation.

Dipping his head over the conch of the docile boy's ear, Kanda's lips were so close to his lobe that Allen could feel his warm breath on his skin. He shuddered as Kanda's hair spilled onto his cheek.

"If you even take a _bite_ of those damn cakes," Kanda chided in a hushed whisper, "I'll fucking _rape you_. Don't think I won't know."

"Get off," Allen scolded, as he heaved his arms against Kanda's chest, managing to shove the man off from his torso. "I won't eat the pastries, so don't say things like that."

"Tch," Kanda grumbled, slipping a shirt on identical to its Satanic predecessor. "We'll see…"

Allen kicked Kanda in the leg as he passed him by on his way to return the rejected clothes to their respective spots. "Oops."

"Seriously, Sprout. Don't eat the cakes; I'll know if you do. _Don't_ push me."

"I won't. God!"

"You better not. Because it won't be me suffering."

Allen rolled his eyes as he established himself in front of his lover, and began to fix his tie. He was tempted to wrap it around his neck and throttle him until his face turned as blue as his late cell phone (Kanda ran it over with his car out of anger last week), but that fleeting thought passed after he finished his task.

Lightly pecking Allen on the lips, Kanda stood up and zipped his pants closed. Placing his hand on Allen's chalky head, Kanda gently pushed his bangs out of his eyes.

"I'll see you when I come home," The man spoke as he neared the bedroom door. Brusquely stopping with one foot outside the room, Kanda pivoted, and faced his young lover. "And those cakes _better_ be done."

Placing a hand to his forehead, Allen feigned a salute. "You can count on me, _Fag_anda."

"Shut it, Chlorophyll."

Two minutes later, Allen safely watched Kanda's murderous Jaguar glide down the street, his hand sticking outside the rolled down window, flipping Allen the bird, like he always did.

Kanda was such a fastidious person; Allen sometimes wondered how the _fuck_ he ended up _living_ with him, and not his soft-spoken childhood sweetheart Lenalee (his first-ever infatuation besides his literally two-second childhood crush on his music teacher/tutor, Mr. Cross, before he was rudely awakened to how much of a womanizing jerk he was).

Kanda was rude, obnoxious, an unadulterated asshole, and had a mental capacity that made the lemmings who commit mass suicide during migration seem comparable to Einstein, but Allen found that he (rather unwillingly) loved him for it. Even now, as he sat on the vacant bed, Kanda's absence filled his veins, pumping throughout his body; spiraling through his capillaries, breathing in his loneliness, and infected his mind. Averting his eyes from Kanda's side of the bed, Allen glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table where the comb lived.

"It's only 12:46…" Allen murmured, rolling onto the spot on the bed where Kanda slept, and enveloped himself with the covers that Kanda slept on.

Realization hit Allen in the form of concrete reality slamming its iron fists against his cranium; like that time when he had been doing somersaults with an obscenely large clip bunching his hair together.

"Wait… Crap!" He jumped out of bed so curtly that his legs became tangled with the afghan, and he collided to the floor with his limbs sprawled awkwardly.

Vaulting from his position on the carpet, Allen clambered down the blood-red carpeted stairway (which he had always disliked. Kanda had promised him at approximately 3:00 AM last night that he would replace the carpets, through closed eyes, and groggy words), jumped over the final step, landing on the surprisingly cold marble tile of the foyer.

Allen used to spend many an insomnia-induced night contemplating how influential Kanda's family must have been, for him to inherit such a stunningly large house, but suddenly, the luster of the tiles and the obscenely large window adorning the wall above the front door (a haven for voyeurs) didn't seem to matter. Time was running out.

Scampering barefooted into the kitchen, Allen flung open the cupboard door with such intensity that he was astonished when it didn't fly off its hinges. Reaching his hand in, he got on the tips of his toes in order to reach the boxes of cake mix gathering dust in the recesses of the cabinet.

"I hate being short," He groaned as his fingertips grazed the front of one of the boxes, only to push it back even _farther_. Annoyance flooding through his body and threatening to overflow from his ears in the form of steam, Allen made use of one of the stools near the granite island by stepping upon its plush in order to reach the stubborn baking mixes. A small smile graced his features as he envisioned Kanda mocking him for being vertically challenged by saying something along the lines of 'Bean-sprouts should stay out in sunlight more if they want to grow.'

After he finally managed to have the two boxes in his grasp, he stepped off of the stool and placed the items on the island. Taking a rubber band from its place in one of the many junk drawers, Allen tied his chin length hair into a lose ponytail. He didn't want to think about the insults Kanda would embellish him with if he managed to get batter caught in his hair.

"So, we have a crumb cake and angel food," Allen mumbled, his taste buds already tingling. "Okay, so for the angel food, I have to preheat the oven to 375 degrees Fahrenheit," Placing aforementioned angel food mix back onto the island, Allen trotted to the oven, and preheated it to the respective temperature. As soon as his fingertips made contact with the cardboard box of the mixes again, he felt a tingling sensation ignite in his heart, and run throughout his veins. Saliva began to pool inside his mouth as the feeling intensified. Who knew that touching boxes of cake mix could suffice for Kanda's touch?

Pouring the two mixes into bowls – not plastic, the angel food cake ingredients warned him about using plastic bowls, Allen began the torturous process of baking without indulging. The sickly-sweet aroma that rose from the mixture as Allen beat it was almost too much for him to handle. He kept a roll of paper towels beside him during the entire process, wiping away saliva that cascaded down his chin as he continued farther down the path of martyrdom.

After over ten paper towels were soaked, and Allen had almost-successfully survived through sugar-withdrawal, he could finally pour the delicious, alluring batter into an un-greased pan. His mouth became drenched and his stomach ached as he leveled the batter with a rubber scraper, its composure smooth and perfect.

"Don't do it, Allen. Don't do it," He thought aloud, his hands clenching the scraper's handle so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He was suddenly overwhelmed with the undeniable urge to turn the cake into something he would never want to eat. Heaving the freezer door open, Allen pulled out the unopened bag of miniature chocolate chips. Allen _hated_ chocolate. Sprinkling the entire bag over the mixture, he grinned.

Placing the pan into the oven, Allen let out a repressed sigh.

"That was too close," He murmured, fists still gripping the scraper. His eyes widened when he noticed that the rubber still adorned bite of the batter.

A sadistic smirk spread over his face, as his senses craved the half-a-teaspoon of batter. "What Kanda doesn't know won't hurt him."

Relentlessly shoving the scraper headfirst into his gaping mouth, Allen closed his eyes as some form of sugar-induced ecstasy washed through his body. He shivered. He was powerless against this addiction; Kanda should have known that he wouldn't be able to help himself. His tongue glided over every millimeter of the rubber, taking in any form of the sweet batter that he could. When his oral muscle could no longer scavenge any form of the treat, he slowly brought it out from between his lips. Wiping away traces of the angel food's blood from his mouth and cheek with his sugar-coveting tongue, Allen haphazardly threw the scraper into the sink. Kanda would never find out about this.

It was the crumb cake's turn now.

Allen could feel the powdered mixture shudder through the box when he lifted it up, and dangled it over the unmerciful glass of the bowl. It didn't want to meet the same inevitable fate as its late predecessor.

"What the heck are 'ground cloves'?" Allen muttered after the difficult acts of pouring the ridiculous amount of sugar, flour, and syrup into the rather-unappetizing conglomeration. Skipping over the unknown ingredient, he followed the bizarre instructions on the box while attempting not to lick the batter-caked spoon. The wooden utensil taunted Allen by flashing its newly acquired, edible apparel in the illuminated light provided by the sun glinting through the windows. Allen gulped, biting on his lip.

"Don't do it. Don't do it. Don't do it, _goddamn it_," He recapitulated, twirling the spoon throughout the batter with more velocity every time those three words rolled off his wet tongue.

Allen blended the crumb topping's ingredients together, and somehow administered it onto the unbaked cake without stealing a crumb or two for him. His mouth watered, and saliva threatened to pool out of his lips and flood the pan of crumb cake.

"Just one bite. Surely Lenalee won't mind if her cake is just a bit smaller," Allen affirmed, recalling the magazines featuring quick weight loss tactics via cutting cake from one's diet that Lenalee worshipped, in spite of her perfect figure. His pupils dilated as his trembling hand made contact with the pan, dragging it closer to him. A secession-discouraged smile made its way onto his face, as the pan of the unbaked treat lay helpless on the table below him. He towered over it, his fingers wrapping around the batter-drenched wooden tease, as it hovered above the cake.

"I can't!"

The spoon clattered from its soapbox back to Earth with a clamorous noise as it collided with the granite island.

"I can't do that to Lenalee," He confided, covering his face with his hands, and letting a muffled groan flow through his parted lips. "And Kanda will-" he gulped, "_Kill _me. I seriously have a problem here."

Allen ferociously hurled the crumb cake into the oven so he wouldn't be tempted, and silently thanked God for giving him an impeccable metabolism.

It was over.

The cakes were both safely cooking in the oven, and he had somehow managed to not physically eat the unbaked pastries. Sucking lightly on the recently abused wooden spoon, Allen closed his eyes and smiled. Soon, the cakes would be done, and Kanda couldn't… _violate_ him. Allen's smirked to himself at that thought.

To pass he time while waiting for the cakes to finish baking, Allen literally skipped around the island. It was then, that he remembered the phone. He didn't usually like talking on the phone, but he hadn't spoken to Lenalee in a while.

Springing to the phone, Allen yanked it off of its base, and dialed the number he knew by heart. Lenalee may be busy around this time, preparing for the ceremony and whatnot, but even hearing her voice would convince Allen more so to not eat said cakes.

"Hello?" A slightly stressed feminine voice answered from the other line.

"Lenalee? It's Allen," He smiled, his cravings for the cakes in his mouth already beginning to dissipate.

"Allen! I'm so glad that you called!" His smile grew tenfold at the sound of how happy just the sound of his voice made her. "I'm kind of busy right now, though, so I can't really talk for too long."

"I figured," Allen admitted, for he had initially surmised as much.

"There's something I have to ask you about," Her demeanor changed abruptly, from that of a blushing bride to the serious prick that was Allen's lover.

"Shoot."

"Um, this may sound kind of random, but…" She inhaled. "I wanted to know what you made for the desserts."

Allen's entire body shut down. His heart stopped pumping blood, leaving his body useless and cold. His capillaries were rendered useless, and his body was filled with waste.

"W-what?"

"It's just really stressful here, and Lavi's been asking all day what we're going to eat for dessert," Allen could just hear the smile on her lips as she spoke her fiancé's name. "Can you just describe them to me so I can get him to shut up about it?"

"Well, um… they're… cakes," Allen swallowed air that passed straight through his lungs. His rib cage was a size too small, making his breathing irregular and uncomfortable.

"Are you okay?" Allen could sense the skepticism in her tone.

"Yeah, I'm fine – anyway," He took a ragged breath, "One of them is a fluffy, airy angel food cake."

"Mmm, I _love_ angel food," Lenalee hummed.

"R-really? So do I," Allen replied nervously, his eyes darting to where the endangered pastry-prey lay-in-wait inside the confines of the oven.

"What else? Add any special stuff to spruce it up?"

Revoking his previous love for God, Allen continued.

"On the angel food cake, I put chips on the top."

"What kind?"

The corner of Allen's lip twitched.

"Chocolate. Chocolate chips."

"Good, Lavi loves chocolate. Anything else?"

"Nope," Allen responded, swiftly striding to the oven's window, and peering in. "But it, um, looks _really_ good. All creamy and smooth…" He trailed off as he cleaned his damp mouth with the back of his sleeve.

"Anything else?"

_Just hang up, hang up on her,_ Allen tried to convince himself, but his polite outlook refused to let him succumb to pressing the red button. "A crumb cake."

"Oh! My favorite!"

"Mine too…"

"How does it look?"

Scrutinizing the artery-clogging pastry, Allen attempted to inhale its aroma through the thick scent of the oven.

"Good."

"How good?"

"_Delicious_."

Allen was unable to conceal the bloodthirsty intentions in his voice.

"You sounded like a murderer when you said that," She giggled successfully hiding her fear under a bubbly façade. "Oh – wait, hold on a sec, okay?"

"Sure," Allen half-consciously replied, his eyes never leaving the baking confectionary. It's crumbling topping sparkled under the dim, orange-tinted lighting of the oven's inside, and the chocolate chips – the same ones that Allen claimed to "hate"- were slowly melting into the top of the angel food, staining it with blackish, sugary dots. Allen stood up, ran to the kitchen table and sat down, facing the clock rather than the oven. It was all that he could do from not stuffing the cakes into his mouth and calling it a day.

"Lavi, - we're busy, you'll find out later," Allen could make out Lenalee's muffled conversation with her future husband through her hand over the receiver. "Lavi – ugh. Fine," Her hand was apparently removed from the phone, because her voice became much clearer the next time she spoke. "Lavi wants you to, um, _describe_ the cake for him. Sorry."

Allen gritted his teeth, imagining his stupid, ass-leech-of-a-best-friend flipping Lenalee two thumbs up. He vowed to challenge Lavi to a poker game and strip him of all of his valuables in the near future.

"Well, the crumb cake topping is crisp and chestnut-colored," He explained, his vision unwillingly refocusing on where said cake lied. It's thick yet powdery."

Allen wondered if Lenalee could hear the lust in his voice as he spoke. He wished he had never selfishly picked up this damn phone and spelled his own doom. His own demise by his watering, famished mouth, or by Kanda's-

"-Hear that, Lavi?" The girl asked her fiancé, and Allen swore he could hear Lavi's head nodded vigorously through the phone. "Wait, there are no nuts, right? You know how allergic Lavi is to them."

A sadistic thought ran through the tundra of Allen's conscience, and urinated on its contents, leaving a flamboyant yellow stain that Allen couldn't quite wipe off of his mind. How he _longed_ to put nuts in these cakes…

"Nope. No nuts here!" Allen beamed; silently praying to a God (that he ceased believing in five minutes ago) for Lenalee's interrogation would end here.

"Alright, Allen. Just tell me a bit more. You know how Lavi is."

Before responding, Allen's head collided with the wall seven times.

"The cake itself is full of sugary surprises. It's rich and…" Allen racked his brain to find the appropriate word for the perfection he had recently witnessed inside his oven. "Delectable."

"Thanks," Lenalee sighed exasperatedly. "Sorry about Lavi. He's just been craving sugar all day."

"He has _no idea_," Allen murmured, his nails grinding into the delicate flesh of his arm harder every time that a mental image of himself eating the cake popped into his mind.

"Pardon?"

"Um, nothing. I didn't say anything."

"Oh, okay then."

The malicious beeping of an all-too-familiar object broke the awkward silence between them. Allen's glass-plated eyes' pupils constricted.

Satan's eroticism was ready.

"Speaking of cakes… they'rereadysoIhavetogonowbye," Allen wheezed after speaking a run-on sentence comprised of excuses, while finally pressing that forsaken button on the phone to end his torture. "Well, that's the last time I ever call Lenalee."

With every step that Allen took closer to the oven, his heart beat erratically, and more sweat trailed down his back. Taking a deep breath, Allen attempted to prepare himself both mentally and emotionally for the cakes. He wasn't, however, anticipating the enticing, rich fragrance that the delicacies would provide as he opened the oven to free them from their heated prison (or haven). Their scent filled him, crawling into the back of his mind, infiltrating his organs, and every blood cell inside of him. He tranquilly closed his eyes, and let their calming smell engulf him. He had to eat it. He wouldn't feel satisfied until those cakes' doughy bodies were swirling around inside his mouth, excreting a delicious taste. He wouldn't be able to smile again until he nearly choked from all of the cake he was stuffing down his narrow esophagus.

He wouldn't be able to function properly until every last crumb of the cake was gone, and his lips were covered with the evidence.

No.

He snapped his eyes open, skidded on the slippery marble tile to the refrigerator, and literally rammed the treats into its pearly white cavity, then slammed the door shut.

"Okay. They're gone," Allen comforted himself, shaking like a victim going through withdrawal while wondering why he wasn't feeling relieved in the slightest.

He had to eat something.

He had to eat something right now, or he would lose his beloved fertility from starving himself.

…Well, not that he needed it anyway; dating a fellow man (or whatever Kanda claimed to be) robbed him of that luxury regardless of how much Allen longed to see a pink cradle in the corner of his bedroom.

Nearly tearing the refrigerator door off its hinges with the degree of how much faster than the speed of sound it flew open, Allen's eyes scavenged each shelf in search for something to indulge on.

Apples? No, those went rotten last week. Leftover pizza? No, Allen finished that during his binge at midnight. Frozen doggie treats? Was he really that desperate enough to eat his hospitalized dog's treats? The cakes?

The cakes.

Those virulent delicacies sat smugly on the bottom shelf, mocking him.

Their chocolate chips seemed to glow in the flickering refrigerator light (Kanda really needed to change that damn bulb), each one of them ridiculing him. Their soft flesh appeared fluffy enough to lift off into the air - like the helium balloon that Allen had accidentally lost his grip on the first-and-only time Kanda took him to a circus.

He couldn't hold back any longer. His veins were exploding with the extra amount of blood that his heart was pumping due to his depriving himself, his liver was already preparing itself to dispose of the unwholesome portions of the cake (via all of it), and his brain was sending around fifty-signals-per-second to his aching stomach to growl with displeasure until it was filled with dough.

He was ready.

Drawing his weapons of choice (knife and fork) out of the silverware drawer, Allen was about to unmercifully lacerate the cakes, when he began to contemplate the finality of the crime he was about to commit.

As his stomach begged to be fed, his arteries popped, and his liver took out its mop, Allen envisioned Lenalee's displeasure during her own engagement party – he knew how much she had been excited to eat angel food for the first time in six months (due to her no-carbohydrate diet that the thin girl didn't necessarily need). Allen knew how Lavi's face would fall when the cake that he had been hyped up about devouring would never make it to the party.

But, perhaps worst of all, Allen's subconscious brought him to imagine his own lover's "displeasure" and "disappointment," which would undoubtedly result in Allen's not-being-able-to-walk the following day…

Just like the utensil before them, the knife and fork clattered to the cold granite of the island.

Sliding his fingers through his silky hair, an aggravated groan tore out of Allen's mouth. Picking up the lucky confectionaries, Allen stalked back to the still-open refrigerator. The cakes were safe to live another day.

An idea abruptly struck Allen like the pain a mentally impaired individual would feel emotionally when they discovered that there was, in fact, no "pot of gold" at the end of a rainbow, but just a piece of glass creating the refracted light, or a few members of the same gender sticking their tongues down their significant other's throats.

The cakes were safe to live another day, yes, but those conceited little chocolate bastards certainly _weren't_ out of the Bermuda Triangle's waters just yet.

Situating the angel food cake back on its previous spot, Allen began to pick out the chips from the top, and plop the screaming morsels in between his all-too-ready lips. Although Allen rather detested the taste of chocolate, it was a good compromise for shoving the cakes down his esophagus. Well, it wasn't exactly the best form of compensation, but it would suffice.

Picking the next loser out from the top, Allen popped it onto his tongue, and licked his lips.

"Delicious," He sang before absorbing more chips at such an alarmingly intense rate, that the leading manufacturer of vacuums would be given a run for his money. When the "meal" was finished, and there were no more brown chips in sight, Allen grinned. He was already planning his victory speech for when Kanda returned.

"See? I can have self-control, stupid," Allen practiced to his reflection in the silver of the fork. He hadn't eaten the cakes, but he still managed to find a loophole.

But that same loophole left his cake looking too much like an extrusive igneous rock with a ridiculous number of gas holes.

"Crap!" Allen wailed when he noticed the monstrosity that his once-perfect cake had become due to his own avaricious desires.

Kanda would kill him.

Searching the cabinets for anything that would fill the holes, Allen yanked out a bag of slivered almonds and raisins. Carelessly stuffing the dents with the almonds and the dried grapes, Allen nearly knocked the crumb cake off of the table. Allen admired his work after the stuffing process was done. But now, the crumb cake looked bare compared to its partner. After sprinkling the remainder of the almonds and raisins onto the crumb cake, Allen nearly gave himself a pat on the back.

"Another potential crisis avoided," He feigned-seriousness, while tossing the now empty bags away. Right when he was about to put the cakes away and go play WiiFit until Kanda returned, reality took a club and smashed it right into the back of Allen's head. _Lavi was allergic to nuts._

Letting a scream of irritation tear out of his throat, Allen smacked his fist into the island table only to have it start throbbing. The cakes were ruined, they were unsalvageable and it was his entire fault.

"You know what?" Allen cried in agitated-induced fury to the refrigerator. "Screw this. The cakes are _mine_."

Allen mercilessly tossed the cakes for around the third time onto the table, seized the abandoned utensils, and stuffed the fork into the center of the cake. A disturbing cackle filled the air as Allen literally delved into the doughy masses. The silverware thrown aside, Allen dunked his hands into both of the cakes, and smashed it against his lips, like a man who had been starved his entire life. His hands were soaked in crumbs and dough, and his face was even worse off, but he found that he felt no guilt whatsoever. He didn't even taste the cakes' flavor as he engulfed it – he wasn't even _enjoying_ it anymore, just mindlessly eating. He just needed to eat it now; it was more than simply wanting it at this point.

He needed to eat its existence off of the face of the Earth.

He was glad that he was eating them. He was glad that he had finally decided to succumb and relentlessly devour the tease.

At least, until the phone rang.

One hand still immersed in the angel food's corpse, and the other halfway to his lips with a handful of crumb cake, Allen froze.

The phone continued to ring. He had no choice.

Putting the crumb cake in his mouth and wiping his opposing hand on his pajama pants, Allen plucked the phone off of its hook, placing it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Sprout, it's me."

Allen's entire world came to a stop in its orbit.

"K-Kanda?" He asked after an extended silence, attempting to sound innocent by pushing the crumb cake to the side of his mouth, though his speech still sounded distorted.

"Do I stutter?"

After living with his all-but-devoid lover for a good half-a-year, Allen could sense Kanda's emotions even through his cold tone. He was definitely _not_ in the best of moods.

Still refusing to let the mound of dough slide down his throat, make noise, and give away his deceit, Allen responded.

"So… why are you calling?"

"I wasted my money buying a watch for you. Check it."

Allen's entire body trembled as he looked down at the Rolex watch situated on his right wrist.

4:30 PM.

_Fuck_.

"I'll be home in fifteen."

_Double fuck._

"Looking forward to see you," Allen replied, already planning how best to make it look as if his suicide by drowning in the toilet would be classified as a tragic accident.

"You ate the cakes, didn't you?"

"No! No, of course not!" Allen declared a bit too quickly. He heard the doubt through the thick static on the other line. He inched closer to the drawer where the butcher knives were kept.

"You sound guilty as Hell right now, Sprout-"

"-Well, I'm not," Allen avowed, already envisioning himself tightening the noose around his neck. "So come home quickly so I can rub it in your face."

"You're _dead_ if that cake is eaten."

Finally finding a motivation as to compromise his innocence, Allen swiftly swallowing the heap of sugar as fast as he could. He then foolishly opened his mouth to mock Kanda, only to begin to choke. His eyes bulged wider than all of the times that Kanda had purposely filled a balloon with too much air and laughed when it finally popped. His hands clenched together as he pounded against his stomach, letting out coughs and wheezes louder than sirens.

"I swear it."

Allen was incapable of replying to Kanda as he rammed his body into the edge of the table, until he spit up the now-dampened mass of something unidentifiable.

"Oh… Oh _God_," Allen felt bile rise in his throat as the wad of crumbs and moisture lay in a heap on the granite island.

Now Kanda had two reasons to eviscerate him, and stuff his lacerations with cake.

"What the fuck just happened?"

"Um. Nothing?" He lied while attempting to pick up the watery glob and toss it into the trash with twenty paper towels protecting his hand from the filth.

"Did you just throw up?"

"Um… no?"

Kanda sounded unconvinced.

"I'll be home soon, and that cake better fucking be there."

It was then that Allen's eardrums were finally graced with the benevolent clicking noise representing Kanda ending the call, and the large swish of the brownish dune landing into the garbage bag.

Slowly looking up from the trashcan, Allen surveyed the damage he had created. The table was covered in the residue from the satanic crumb cake out to murder him, and it was also smeared with the doughy insides of the cakes. The delicacies themselves looked almost like a gaping pothole.

Looking back at his watch, Allen noted that he had ten minutes left to either somehow rectify this situation, or face an untimely death by his own lover's hand… or more literally, his reproductive organ.

"Fuck."

* * *

ORIGINALLY WRITTEN: January 13, 2009

EDITED: May 26, 2010. Phew!

Oh, and **disclaimed.** :D


	2. Wrath

"Either I need to find a subtle way to suicide, or I have to fix those cakes."

Allen's susurration could barely be heard over the murderous beckons of all of the weapons in the house.

The previously discarded blade, now resting on the table, seemed more inviting than Kanda's potentially lethal violation. Allen couldn't quite decide which would hurt more.

He needed to fix this. _Fast_.

The "cakes" – if they even could be classified as such at this point – looked almost identical the colossal cavities that would soon ruin Allen's perfect teeth if he didn't alter his diet. They were _so_ disfigured, in fact, that Allen was almost one hundred percent certain that they had simply skipped over the solidifying process, and became extrusive igneous rocks in a matter of seconds. He was almost tempted enough to bring them to the bathroom and perform a streak test on the inside of his porcelain toilet bowl.

They were ruined beyond measure and there was no other suspect than Allen, clad in his pajamas coated with the victim's doughy entrails as evidence. Case closed.

"I should have just eaten the pudding in the cupboard," Allen whined, the mental image of throwing himself in the path of Kanda's all-too-apparently speeding car becoming more vivid and believable with every passing second.

Wait. _Pudding_.

Allen might have just saved his mobility yet.

Leaping over the garbage pail as if he were involved in a gymnastics tournament rather than a life-or-death situation, Allen grabbed the wooden spoon from its perch in the sink next to the rubber scraper that Allen had molested with his tongue. Once it was in his grasp, he vaulted in front of the two ruined pastries and jammed the spoon into their centers, molding and mixing them together.

"_Please_ work," Allen couldn't believe that he was honestly at the point of begging an inanimate object to do his bidding. Unfortunately, he apparently was at his all-time low, since the knives' suicidal suggestions were getting louder and gorier by the second.

No matter how much he pleaded with them, the murdered delicacies refused to metamorphose into pudding.

God must have really wanted to see Allen in pain tonight.

"Damnit! It's not working!" He finally declared after wasting a good portion of his rear's last few moments of life.

Tearing open the refrigerator, his eyes scavenged the shelves for anything that might save him. He could skin the rotten apples and... Wait, Kanda would notice their absence. Allen could always mash up Timcanpy's doggie treats... but then what would Tim eat when he returned from the hospital tomorrow?

What would Allen eat when Kanda sent _him_ to the hospital if he couldn't save the cakes?

"Screw you, Kanda. You'll have to eat toast instead of omelets," Allen snickered, finally decided on using some of Kanda's "off-limits" food to help him. The punishment for using his eggs, soba, or rice would definitely be more humane than the feeling of Kanda's external reproductive organ up his butt.

Removing a box of most-likely rotten eggs from the refrigerator, Allen unmercifully slammed it against the counter, a sickening crack filling his ears as he did so.

Now he was guilty of second-degree murder as well as first.

Ignoring his lengthening list of offenses, Allen then removed a gallon of milk from the shelf so abruptly that the cap popped off, letting a miniscule-yet-noticeable amount of the white liquid splash onto the floor. Allen almost went into cardiac arrest. That would be _him_ soon enough if this plan didn't work…

Literally ripping the cover off of the carton of recently broken eggs, Allen rather unceremoniously pounded each egg against the table until their fault lines severed even more so, and a disgusting yellow liquid trickled down his hand. After carelessly throwing both the mutilated shell and the slimy yolk into the ground zero areas of the cakes (at this point, he didn't even care if it was an incubator for salmonella, as long as Kanda thought it looked believable), Allen poured the milk recklessly, successfully wetting both the table and the already dampened floor. However, even with his sporadic pouring, he somehow managed to fill the sinuses of the confectionaries.

As Allen picked up the wooden utensil once more, it screamed at him to gauge his viscera out with its splinter-bound handle. Before he could hear any more of the silverware's enticing offers (which he almost accepted), he shoved it back into the unforgiving depths of the milky swimming grounds. The spoon sputtered and gasped for air as it was swirled about, mashing into the buoyant yolks, and splattering even more milk over the edge of the crevasses.

"I'm sorry, Lenalee," Allen thought aloud, while half-expecting his concoction to explode like the time he had mixed two wrong chemicals together in science class. "I'm sorry that you're going to get _this._"

He was about to apologize to Lavi, when he remembered that this entire predicament was that redheaded ass-leech's fault. Instead, he smirked as he noted that there were still some nuts living inside the mixture. If that "poor," "unfortunate" fruit loop just so _happened_ to get hives and explosive diarrhea on the day of his own engagement party... he had it coming to him. The accident would be completely unrelated to Allen and his death-cakes in any way, shape, or form.

After deeming that he had "mixed" it enough, Allen took the utensil out from its milky grave, and rested it on the stained island. Stepping back and surveying his sin, Allen almost patted himself on the back with Kanda's precious knife. He was _screwed_. Screwed in every sense of the word.

Sadistic reality took another bloodied mace and slammed it into Allen's head. Again.

The freezer. Why hadn't he checked the freezer for potential pudding ingredients?

Allen blatantly refused to honor his watch's opinion of the time as he vaulted towards the freezer's door. His retinas would burn if it were to be disclosed that he had any time less than eight minutes to walk without feeling as if a pe- _stick_ was stuck up his rump for the remainder of his life.

His heart palpitating faster than the time that it would take for his lover to discover what he had done, he shredded the freezer's door. Said freezer was overflowing and over-packed with frostbitten packages of food that he and Kanda hadn't even looked at while they bought, nor after. Tossing bags of frozen cranberries, a canister of fish flakes (their fish had died almost as long ago as the expiration date on that ice-coated box of bean burritos), and faceless other frigid food, into the puddle of milk on the floor.

After the stack of frozen food was threatening to tip over, he found his target: A single, cling-wrapped bar of double-fudge chocolate was peaking out from under where Kanda had hidden it from Allen beneath the open, frozen-solid package of French fries. A beam of light illuminated the chocolate, and said objective appeared to have a small halo over dangling its sugary body. Allen could have sworn that he heard the distinct sound of angels singing.

His bluing hands wrestled with the bag French fries guarding the chocolate, suffocating it and then tossing its body over the mound of the dampened crumb cake assassin in the garbage bag. Taking his artery-clogging prize out from the safety of the icicle-caked shelf, Allen attempted to seal the freezer with his foot, only to have it close halfway, and then reopen slowly. His eyebrow twitched. Using the minimal self-defense skills that Kanda had taught him before he got fed up with Allen's incompetence, he front kicked the door into a closed position.

An inhuman grin played at Allen's lips as he brutally threw the hard fudge into the wall of the microwave. Jamming the number "forty-five" into the timer and pressing the button to commence the nuking, Allen watched as – plastic wrap and all – the fudge melted. He found that he didn't care who ate the cake-pudding and was unfortunate enough to ingest plastic as well. All that mattered as getting this dirty job done so he could live to walk another day.

After what seemed like an eternity, the microwave finally beeped. Allen took out the nuked chocolate out from its heated torture chamber. Picking up the very knife that had so graciously offered to slit his throat mere seconds ago, Allen split the coalesced blob in half. Its brownish blood remained on the blade as he threw equal parts of the fudge and the cling wrap into their respective, milk-filled decays. Mixing the coagulated concoction once more, Allen began to snicker. This time, the mixture was consolidating – his magma was solidifying into igneous, and it looked almost like a pudding.

A half-assed, doughy, thick, nut-filled, unappetizing pudding, but it would suffice.

"Take that, _Fag_anda!" Allen proclaimed through peals of laughter. He deserved a fucking medal for this. Kanda would have to grovel at _his_ feet tonight, as he proceeded to rub his victory in the man's face. He could imagine the scene now: His strong, hotheaded lover getting down on his knees, and begging Allen for forgiveness for not believing in his willpower. Allen would toss hair out of his eyes, look at his perfectly manicured nails, and pretend to debate whether or not to forgive the feminine man. Then, that night, Kanda would let him dominate him for the first time in their two-year relationship in an attempt to get Allen to forgive him.

Finally, it would be _Kanda _who wouldn't be capable of walking the following morning.

His mind dictated by his own withering sanity, Allen's chortles soon escalated into bouts of hysterical laughter. Soon, he was laughing with such intensity that he was practically spitting into his "pudding" and he felt the urge to throw up again.

The temptation to hurl only intensified as he heard the malevolent noise of the garage door pulling open.

"Crap!"

Throwing the monstrous, brown, beaten corpses (recently assimilated into some form of a composite) into the refrigerator, Allen took the mounds of frozen bags in his arms – from fish flakes to cranberries – and shoved them back into the freezer. The cruel foods refused to fit together in the concise space, so Allen was forced to slam the freezer door shut before the bags all fell out. He felt guilty being responsible for the next person who opened the freezer door only to face an avalanche of frozen packages, but not guilty enough to risk his life to rectify the freezer situation.

His ability to walk was on the line here, and that was more important than someone potentially getting a headache from being bombarded with frigid bags.

Running back to the island to throw the spoon back into its proper place in the sink, Allen slipped on the puddle of milk that was successfully larger than the amount of excuses that he would need to bastardize to explain the existence of the maimed pudding-cakes. Kamikaze-crashing into the garbage, Allen's eyes rolled back in their sockets, he felt a smidgen of foam escape his mouth and trickle down his chin, and his limbs had tremors as the trash spilled its horrors all over the ground.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Allen repeated as if he had echolalia as he used his hand to brush the package of previously smothered French fries and its discharged dried-grease coated fries back into the garbage bag. The childhood rule of "don't cry over spilled milk" was suddenly rendered useless as Allen noted that his regurgitated mound of crumb cake had escaped Hell's flames, and was now back out in the light of day.

"There's no way in_ Hell_ I'm desperate enough to touch that," Allen seethed, glaring at the half-eaten, conceited demon resting on the floor. His words were soon contradicted as the unmistakable sound of the garage door closing swarmed his ears. "Damnit."

Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, Allen was preparing his clean hands to fling the wad-in-need-of-an-exorcism into the garbage, when he heard the distinct noise of a key sliding into a lock.

His pupils dilated.

Time was up.

Thoughtlessly, Allen used the tortured wooden spoon to conceal half of the smug mass. It remained half-hidden under the shadow of the island, though it was the best he could do with the time constraint. Hell would rain down upon him if Kanda happened to reach his hand down there…

The door's lock clicked open.

Allen leaped out of the kitchen – narrowly escaping tripping over his own two feet. He scrambled into place on the sofa and snatched the remote from in-between the two couch cushions (its typical hiding place). The disoriented boy miraculously managed to switch on the television with trembling hands and pretend to be enthralled by the children's show that was playing right as the door opened.

The evil was home from the seventh circle.

"I'm home, Sprout."

_Joy. _Allen thought, his hands clenching into fists on a pillow, pinching his next victim as his nails dug into its plush flesh. Opening his mouth to reply to his partner, Allen suddenly coveted a bottle of pepper spray. God knew he would need it.

"Welcome home, moron," Allen rudely retorted from his lopsided perch on the couch, as his heart began to beat erratically once more. Living with his drunken piano teacher for five hellish years had taught him how to be an expert liar, but living with Kanda for six months had also taught his lover how to see right through the one-way glass of every fabrication that rolled off of Allen's tongue.

Satan – in the form of a well-built, temperamental violator – stepped into the den, and Allen's breath caught. Kanda looked skeptical. There was only one conclusion: He _knew_.

Closing his eyes tighter than Kanda's grip around his elbow when he had pulled him from getting hit by an incoming car last week, Allen braced himself for the worse. His lover's lips parted, and his hand found its way to his hip. Allen could already imagine that very hand coated in crimson.

"Why the fuck are you watching _Blue's Clues_?"

_What?_

He didn't know. Kanda hadn't figured it out.

_I'm safe to walk another day because my lover is an_ idiot_!_ Allen inwardly cheered. All of his hard work, effort, and brilliant bullshitting had paid off. How could he have overestimated the mass of his lover's brain so much? He was off the hook!

It was time to celebrate.

The recently bailed-out pastry murderer began to laugh from lunacy-induced relief. Kanda arched an eyebrow and glared at his lover as the boy randomly began to roll back and forth on the sofa.

"I'm just watching a show of your caliber," Allen countered through his irrational laughter.

"Why the Hell are you laughing, Chloroplasts?"

Allen couldn't respond due to his crazed chortles. He was grabbing his sides, almost to the point of _crying_. It was almost as if Allen had blood bubbles popping in his veins from going through a place with too much atmospheric pressure. He fell off the couch, still grabbing his sides and hysterical. As he landed on the tiled floor, his laughter only _doubled_.

Kanda legitimately looked _concerned_ – an unthinkable emotion to be classified with the irritable man.

What the _fuck_ had happened to his Beansprout while he was working?

"Stop fucking laughing and show me those cakes."

That sentence alone was enough to snap Allen out of his fit.

_Damn the world and all of its inhabitants._

"Sure," Allen slowly stood up, praying to God that the sun would suddenly exhaust all of its fuel and become a white dwarf at this very instant.

With every step that he took closer to the kitchen, the louder Steve sang about finding "Blue's clues." The underpaid actor's caroling was so ludicrously deafening, that it was to the point where Allen couldn't hear himself think of how best to steal Kanda's car and drive off a cliff. The walls were getting closer and closer to him, engulfing him and trapping him. With every step he took, he more he wobbled and threatened to tip over. Putting one foot in front of another was becoming an exceedingly difficult task as his vision blurred.

Why had he eaten the cakes? He didn't even enjoy it!

He felt hands clamp on either side of his waist, anchoring him.

"Are you sick or something?" Kanda asked, his grip on the person he loved growing tighter. "Am I going to have to go to this damn party alone?"

Kanda always expertly feigned annoyance, but even Allen could tell that this time he was legitimately worried about him.

A tsunami of guilt washed over Allen, leaving his mind uninhabited and his lips unable to formulate words.

He _really_ loved Kanda.

Every day that the pompous man went to work, Allen would contemplate how to make the nights fun for them when Kanda returned. The boy would occasionally surprise Kanda when he came home by wearing the horrendous vermilion dress that Lenalee had given him, sometimes subjecting himself to watching those boring martial arts videos that Kanda had bought on a whim.

However, there were always those infrequent times where Allen would treat Kanda to a candlelit dinner – complete with vodka (though he was underage and hated alcohol more than Brussels sprouts), homemade cupcakes, and vanilla scented candles. Though those dates only occurred if his lover made commission or if Allen and his belligerent lover had gotten into a fight before Kanda left for work: they were still the white-haired boy's favorite way of spending time with his lover.

Every second that Kanda was away from him, he felt the air grow clammier and tighter around him – constricting his chest and obstructing his breathing. But now, as Kanda's hands were wrapped around his hips, Allen felt strength returning to him. He loved him.

Allen wanted to tell him what he had done - he would find out soon enough anyway.

Molten lead was poured into the veins of Allen's fantasy as the mental image of Kanda fulfilling his ominous threat clouded over his better judgment. The spilled wine idea of confessing to his sins and atoning were quickly drenched in OxiClean and thrown into the washing machine.

"I'm fine, Kanda," Allen drawled, pushing his partner's hands off from their clasp around his hips. The man stepped back, apparently agitated, and brushed his fingers through outrageously excessive hair.

Averting his eyes from the nearing kitchen, Allen looked out of the voyeuristic window. He found himself unwillingly pin-pointing the spot where Kanda would mercilessly hurl him through it.

"You ate the fucking cakes, didn't you?"

Allen's blood turned to ice, his stomach lining melted, and his organs were oxidized by acid.

"No, I didn't! See?" Allen replied a bit too quickly. As he made his way into the kitchen, he began falsely assuring himself that Kanda would be too much of a dim bulb to realize what he had done. The martial artist was perhaps so much of a dull knife that he would never realize that the cakes had once been fluffy and beautiful, rather than lumps of something unidentifiable that they were now. Besides, Kanda had been the one who had asked Allen to move in with him half a year ago.

If he loved him, he would forgive him, _right?_

But then again, Kanda still hadn't forgiven him for the time that he replaced his shampoo with pink hair dye…

He stood in front of the refrigerator, his limbs refusing to move and reveal his deceit.

"Well?"

"I'm working on it, homo."

"Do I need to do everything myself?" Kanda contradicted his actions from earlier that morning with his sentence, before reaching over to shove Allen out of the way.

"No! I'll get them; just wait a second. My God," Allen hurriedly scolded, preparing both his deteriorating mind and his butt for the next few minutes.

He opened the refrigerator.

Allen almost half-expected to see the epitome of perfections in their natural state of being airy and light, but alas, he had robbed them of their beauty a good fifteen minutes earlier. All that he could see were two poorly constructed masses of chocolate, yellow, and white sitting on the shelf.

_Kanda's so not going to buy this,_ Allen finally admitted, already planning on running to the cabinet to find some pepper spray to use in his defense.

Producing the pudding-cakes (if they could even be dubbed with that title at this point) from the refrigerator, the hapless boy gently placed them onto the counter. As he set them down, he subtly eyed the cabinet full of inhalants that would potentially burn Kanda's eyes if he lunged for his jugular or his-

"-Ta-da," Allen presented, forcing a smile on his face whilst sporadically shaking his hands in an up and down motion in a futile attempt to make his betrayal look funny. He inconspicuously inched towards the cabinet.

There were no words to describe the expression that was adorning Kanda's face. His eyes weren't bursting out of their sockets, nor was his jaw clenched like the time that Allen refused to let Kanda take him for soba on their first date. He was perfectly expressionless, and, if possible, that was more disturbing to Allen than the look of pure rage he was expecting to see.

"I know what Blue wants to do! She wants to bake a cake!" Steve gleefully sang from the accursed television after deducing something blatantly obvious (and that subsequently had everything to do with Allen's predicament) from three ridiculous clues.

The clues: The sink filled with already-clean utensils; the dough and chocolate adorning Allen's lips and cheeks; and the horrors resting on the island. The hints that were provided to Kanda were easier to surmise the solution from than Blue's. There was only one possible option…

"You ate the cakes, didn't you?"

Allen gulped.

"Um… yeah. Sorry."

Kanda's emotion-barren face suddenly morphed into something hideous. His expression resembled the one from last week when he was yelling at the drunken driver of the car that had almost smashed into Allen.

All in a matter of milliseconds, Allen finally saw the look of unadulterated ferocity that he had been anticipating.

Now it was time to run.

Unfortunately, Allen had no chance to grab a weapon for protection before his back was slammed into the counter. Kanda was looming over the boy, grabbing his wrist in his iron-like fist, twisting it violently.

"Didn't I warn you?" His inflamed lover sneered, the look in his eyes successfully scaring Allen into submission more than his prior threat. His charcoal hair spilled over his partner's shoulder as he leaned in closer. Allen felt his heart flat-line.

"Get off!" The threatened boy emphasized the word 'off' as he kicked Kanda in the area that would never produce children if he continued to live with a fellow male.

After accomplishing getting his feral partner away from him, Allen dashed into the bathroom and locked the door. He sank against the door and buried his head in his hands.

Mentally cursing the devilishly alluring cakes for coercing him into becoming a voracious serial eater - who was now destined to die while writhing beneath his lover's dictating, procreant… _thing_, Allen continually slammed the back of his head into the door.

Allen was suddenly shoved forward by the intensity of Kanda's fists pounding against the sealed entrance. Going to the gym once a day really paid off, it seemed. Allen should have followed his lover to that forsaken place when he had the chance to…

"Damnit, Sprout, open the door!"

Allen almost laughed.

"So you can forcefully ride my rectum? No way!"

"Beansprout… I'm warning you…"

"You're too cheap to knock down the door, stupid! It was expensive!"

"The money for a new one will come right of out of your fucking piggybank, bitch."

Why the _Hell_ had Allen ever accepted this anal buccaneer's offer to move in with him?

Scampering towards the haven that the light from the bathroom window was providing for him, Allen attempted to open it without the fuming hermaphrodite outside the door hear him try to escape.

The window wouldn't open.

Allen wished that he had never wasted his time attending Church. _There was no God._

"Don't even _think_ about trying to get out the window," Kanda's vicious demeanor was almost enough to have Allen throw himself through the glass without even opening it. "I will fucking run you over with my car. It's faster than you can run."

Allen could just picture Kanda smirking inwardly while imagining his ex-lover as a hood ornament for that damn Jaguar of his. He shuddered.

Positioning himself in front of the bathroom door, Allen faced the window and closed his eyes. He had come to the moronic conclusion that he had no other option other than to blindly lunge forward and hurl himself through the impossible-to-open escape route. He figured could handle a few cuts in comparison to what Kanda would do to his entire body if he didn't manage to abscond from this hellhole.

Just when he was about to run forward and through the window, a single word stopped him.

"Wait."

Turning around to face the wood blocking him off from the reaper outside, Allen rolled his eyes.

"For what? So you can – and I quote – '_rape me_'?"

Allen heard the distinct sound of either a horse whinnying, a hyena snorting before it began incessant laughter, or of a very ticked off lover grunting. He had to choose the latter.

"Tch, no you idiot. Not when there's only three hours before the damn party."

"But you _hate_ parties, you anti-social bastard," Allen countered, tentatively stepping closer to the door and farther away from safety.

"Fuck you."

"Excellent comeback. I'm impressed."

"Shut your gaping pie hole-"

"-_Great_ pun. Props."

"Just fucking listen to me," Kanda sounded less choleric than he did urgent – an emotion that Allen had once thought impossible to use with his lover's name in the same sentence. "I'll punish you later-"

"-I'm shaking. Good thing I'm inside a bathroom so I don't wet myself."

"Every time you interrupt me, you're only making me want to fuck you harder. Now are you going to shut up and listen to me or not?"

Opening his mouth to reply, Allen decided that tempting an already-inflamed maniac wasn't exactly one of the highest priorities on his to-do list.

"Enlighten me with your philosophy, O Wise and Holy _Fag_anda."

"Tch," Allen heard a thump as the speaker pressed up against the door separating them. "You need to fix those-"

"-You mean _we_."

"No, idiot. I don't. _You're_ the dumbass who ate the cakes, so you have to re-bake them."

"Well you know damn well that I have no restraint when it comes to sugar," Allen maintained, commending himself for his guts. "So when you told me that I should bake the cakes; you either wanted this to happen, or you're just dumber than I thought."

There was a silence.

"Fine. _We _need to bake those fucking cakes," Kanda must have decided that it would be easier to lure the boy out of his floral sanctuary by telling him what he wanted to hear. "There's some baking mix left, right? You weren't stupid enough to use the whole damn thing, _right_?"

Allen knew that Kanda knew the answer without his even replying.

"Um, er- well… I thought… um, since Lenalee's so cute and Lavi's such a promiscuous candidate for hepatitis B, I figured that they would need a big cake and, um-"

"-Stop being a fucking dictionary and cut to the chase, Sprout."

"Yeah. I used it all. Wasn't that obvious at this point?"

"You _fucking idiot_."

"Yeah well, at least I'm still in college."

"I fucking quit college to fucking support _you_, dipshit."

"Look, before your small attention span drives us any more off topic," Allen finally graced his watch by looking at it, and his eyes widened when he realized that if they kept on procrastinating by arguing at this rate, they would be late to their best friends' engagement party. He let out an exasperated sigh.

"...Kanda, just finish what you were trying to say in the first place."

"Tch. Moron."

Creeping closer to the door until he placed his hand on its wooden, beige painted surface, Allen could almost imagine Kanda's warm, occasionally inviting chest through it. He closed his eyes and imagined all of those precious-yet-rare times when his usually cold boyfriend would grant him permission rest his head on his shoulder. Allen could just feel the utmost sense of protection and well being that would wash over him when Kanda would place his lover's achromatic head in the cup of his hand, drape his arm over his waist, and pull Allen closer to him. Despite how sweltering the room may be, they'd always nestle closer: unsatisfied until their thighs were adjacent, their legs intertwined, and they could feel the warmth of the other's breath on their cheeks as they meshed together in the darkness.

No buffet table – no matter how indulgent - could compare to the feelings of euphoria that Allen felt on those infrequent occasions.

They hadn't slept like that for a while now. Allen wondered if maybe he seduced Kanda tonight, they would embrace one another in bed rather than having the man pin him down, shove his head into a pillow to muffle his screams, and unmercifully use his manhood as a projectile weapon while he-

"-Sprout, did you hear what I said?"

Roughly snapping back into reality from the sandpapery sound of said lover's voice, Allen blinked.

"Oh, um, of course I did."

"Good. Fucking repeat it then."

Allen banged his head against the door what he figured was the twentieth time that day.

"I couldn't keep up, your voice is too annoying," The childlike boy giggled, a smile spreading across his face as he imagined the annoyed look that would most likely be crossing over Kanda's face after hearing his excuse.

"Just haul your fat ass out of the bathroom, we'll go to the supermarket and pick up any random baking mix we see-"

"-Wait, Kanda. We can't. Lenalee and Lavi interrogated me."

"What the fuck?"

"Fine. I'll water this down to terms that even baboons like you can understand."

"Shut the fuck up before I take off my pants and put your mouth to better use."

Allen cringed.

"I had to describe the cakes in agonizing detail to them. Sorry."

"Fuck you."

"Can you stop cursing?"

"Yeah, as soon as that ass-leech Rabbit can get me pregnant."

"Actually…"

Kanda's fist rammed into the back of the door where Allen's head was resting, causing a yelp to escape from his lips.

"Ow! That hurt like Hell!" Allen shrieked as he rubbed his aching cranium. "If I get early Alzheimer's, you're not getting anything in my will."

"Now you cursed too, fag."

"God, what's your problem?"

"You deserved it, bottom."

"Why don't you go into that precious Jaguar of yours and drive yourself into a ravine? Do us all a favor," Allen's former love for that argumentative headache was rapidly draining out from his heart, into his stomach to be digested by gastric acid, and then flushed away down the toilet of the bathroom which he was – rather conveniently – located inside of.

"What the fuck are you – _we_," He corrected himself before Allen got the chance to object, "Going to now, moron? We can't fucking bake the exact same cake."

"Unless…" An idea crawled into his mind in place of the brain cells that Kanda's punch had murdered.

"Unless _what_?"

"We'll just go to the supermarket, run in and out, buy the same baking mixes, bake them, and bingo – I – _we're_ saved!"

Kanda almost had a heart attack from the pure sincerity in his boyfriend's voice.

"You're forgetting an important detail, Sprout."

Allen shocked and disgusted that Kanda would have the balls (though he supposed that fact all-but proved his otherwise questionable gender) to judge the flawless epiphany that was his plan. The window was starting to look inviting again.

"And what's that, moron?"

"Your idea of 'running in and out' takes fucking forever," Kanda corrected.

Kanda found that he was unwillingly remembering all of those hellish times where he was subjected to sitting in the car while Allen so-called "ran in and out" of BJ's, Trader Joe's, or wherever-the-Hell-else he dragged him to. Allen would make him wait in the overheated car, promising Kanda that he would only take five minutes and purchase only a single package of ramen, gum, or whatever else he had gone in for. A good forty-five minutes or more later, Allen would return with an overflowing cartload of crap saying: "They were having a sale!" If Kanda would glare at him or he'd grip the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles would turn white, then the all-too-familiar excuse of: "The line was so long!" would pop up.

Kanda flinched at his memories of Allen's "running in and out" painted in the pale shade of impatience.

"Well, in my time, it takes five minutes."

"As much as I love to take a pin to your bubble, Sprout," The man argued. "Five minutes in 'Beansprout-time' is around thirty in normal people time."

"You're normal?"

"I'm don't need to photosynthesize, Beansprout."

"What other 'normal' person would call me a beansprout?"

"How about anyone who has fucking eyes?"

"Then you must be on drugs."

"No. _You're_ the one who's on drugs every damn time you go into a supermarket," Kanda snorted. "There's no other reason why you should take so Goddamn long in fucking Walmart unless you were drugged with rohyphnol."

A bit afraid as to why his lover knew the name of a date rape drug, Allen gritted his teeth. Digging his nails into the skin of his arm was all that he could do from bursting out of the room with broken shards of the mirror's glass and plunging them through Kanda's-

"-Well, I won't take long this time, I swear."

A small smirk crossed Kanda's face, as he rapped a knuckle against the door.

"If you make me take even a _second_ over ten minutes in the damn supermarket, you're my slave for the entire week, Sprout. Not just tonight when I-" A snicker broke up his speech, "-_punish_ you."

"No. Way. In._ Hell_." The boy receiving the short end of the stick replied curtly, not even giving his lover's "generous" offer a second of thought before his reply.

"Fine. Then _you_ can be the one to explain to Lenalee and that Rabbit-with-a-hint-of-mint why their cakes never made it to the party. Is that a better deal for you?"

Allen's lack of words implied that he was deep in thought. Which was the lesser of two evils: Being Kanda's _bitch_ for a week – Allen gagged at the mere thought – or being unable to get out of the market in under ten minutes? Or, was getting the nonexistent fat beaten out of him from Lenalee's unmatchable boxing skills and facing whatever reprimand Lavi saw fit the worst alternative?

"F-fine," Allen murmured more to the lumber of the door than to his waiting partner.

"What? I couldn't hear you?"

"Shut up, _Fag_anda. I said it's a deal!"

"Good. Now open the door so we can shake on it."

_More like so I can sell my soul to Satan,_ Allen concluded as he gradually undid the bathroom door's lock. He opened it only enough to stick his bony arm through and wrap his small, pallid hand around Kanda's tanned, strong one.

They shook their hands up and down.

The bet had been made.

Allen stepped out from the daffodil-scented bathroom as their hands returned to their respective sides.

"Deal?"

"Tch. You bet your ass on it."

Allen groaned, still wondering if there was still anyway that he could run back into the refuge of the bathroom, stick his head in the toilet and drown.

"Believe me, I _am_."

* * *

This chapter sucks. No, I mean _seriously_, it sucks. Lexi (my twin sister) and I have tried to edit it over six times, and yet, it remains stubborn and decides to be terrible. Well... that's a bit of my own fault there. With midterms, other tests, and my own laziness, I'm at fault for this hideous chapter, but I've seriously gotten sick of editing, and it's been a good seventeen days since I've updated, so I succumbed and decided to post this little bugger in all of its horrendous glory. Sorry, guys. I really did try.

However... not all hope is lost! I'll try to compensate for this hideous excuse of a chapter by creating an epic chapter three.

And by "epic" I mean _EPIC_. It'll involve a lot of bickering, jealousy, more GLTB slang (with ones that are so ridiculous they made Lexi and even a few of my anti-anime/manga friends almost go into cardiac arrest in the middle of the school hallway from laughing so hard), and the appearance of our ever-delicious Mikk-Boy. Yes, he will be a' coming. Hurrah for double entendres. :D

...Though it may take a while.

Oh, and the whole thing about "taking forever in supermarkets" is my Mom's thing. She "runs" into all of the stores that I listed, claiming that she'll only buy a bucket of animal crackers, and then comes out an hour later (one time, during the summer, it took her _two hours_) with either a full cart, or the single item that she claimed she would buy before she entered. I once timed Mom with my iPod's stopwatch, saying that if she took _one second _over fifteen minutes in BJ's, I would tell Dad to drive away and leave her there. Fourteen minutes and thirty seconds later, she returns with a package of gum. Nice.

BJ's is my mortal enemy thanks to my mother's plights.


	3. Pride

Hey! Hey! Guess what's coming your way? You guessed it: The crappy third installment of Decadent! :D

...But before all of you delve into this hideous chapter with forks, knives, and the occasional pitchfork, I would like to dedicate it in all of its failing glory to someone epic. Said epic person goes by the name of Terrance. He helped me think up ideas for the only salvageable portion of this chapter (you'll know it if you survive reading this long enough to get to it) by allowing me to interview him about the Wonderful World of Urinals. He knows all about the WWU to compensate for my lack of knowledge since I was born as a female. :D

He was very mature about the whole thing: He answered all of my ridiculous questions about the WWU in a very intelligent, sarcastic way... even while I was crying because I was laughing so hard. However, there is a problem with said epic individual: He's anti-queer... and he's dying to read this story which involves the best kind of men. _Gay_ men. Joy.

When he asked me about Decadent's whereabouts for the fifth consecutive time during art extra help, I responded with a simple: "Um, it's like, sixty-four pages long, dude. You're going to have to wait until my printer can handle giving birth to say many babies at once."

He then warned me that if I didn't have it printed it out for him by next Monday with a red silken ribbon tying it together, he would get angry. I felt that the "This clay scalpel I'm holding will be lodged inside your sclera" was implied.

...So I have a little over a week to change all of the times I refer to our homosexual pansy as "he" into "she" and "Allen" into an alternate way of spelling my name. This is going to be a week from Hell (unlike Kanda's week with Allen, har har, har...;D).

Anyway - try not to have your retinas start bleeding love due to the fail below! :D

Get it? _"Bleeding love?"_ ...Okay, never-mind. Feel free to virtually pelt me with stones.

**Disclaimer: **If D. Gray-man were mine, everyone would be... well, a gay man. (More puns.)

* * *

"I cannot believe that you didn't even give me time to change," Allen groaned, risking his mobility yet again in order to voice his obvious disdain towards his lover's treatment of him during the past hour.

Even though his partner had recently returned from his alternate home in Hell, it seemed to Allen as if he were still immersed in its pyre – he was that inflamed. Well, it wasn't as if Allen could necessarily blame him. Rather, he commended the all-too infamous "Short Fuse" (his very first pet name for Kanda) on his immaculate self-control. Especially when he was expecting some kind of spontaneous combustion. Oh, happy day.

Even on a day in which he didn't ignite on a whim, he still wasn't very forgiving.

Kanda hadn't even given Allen a chance to strip off his dirty clothes before he had unceremoniously grabbed him by the arm, and dragged him into his murderous Jaguar. So naturally, Allen was still clad in his blue, polar bear pajamas coated with the confectionary's gizzards.

_Here goes my social life_. Allen whined inwardly while clenching his hands into fists in his lap.

"Shut up," Kanda retorted, glaring at Allen. "It's your fucking mouth that made this mess in the fucking first place, so _close it_."

Allen slumped into the passenger seat. He should have jumped out the bathroom window and taken his chances living off of the banana peels in dumpsters while he still had the chance. Now, his rump was awaiting trail for Death Row – without a lawyer and with the sole juror on the case blackmailing him. If he didn't comply to the extorting juror's demands… his fate could potentially be more lethal than an electric chair and the infamous syringe - c_ombined_.

Allen gulped for the fifth time since he entered the car.

"Can you, um…" The boy trailed off, his eyes flickering towards the police station that they passed by as he spoke. Noticing what his lover was eyeing, Kanda smirked.

"You're not fucking going in there, Sprout," The anus-robbing devil spoke, his grin doubling. "There's only one thing that's going inside of _you_, and that'll be my-"

"-Just turn on the radio so I don't have to hear you anymore," Allen interrupted, his hands unwillingly cupping around his precious rear.

T-minus six hours to walk – if the party even lasted that long. Perhaps he would beg Lenalee to let him sleepover. He would even rest in the damn closest if Lenalee and Lavi wanted to get their groove on – as long as it meant keeping his mobility.

Allen's contemplation on how best to propose the juvenile idea of a sleepover to his best friend on the day of her engagement party were abruptly cut off as the deafening sound of rap music blasted through the radio; successfully shaking the car and causing earthquakes.

"Turn this crap off!" Allen shouted in a futile attempt to be heard over the blaring curse words. "You know I hate rap!"

"That's why it's on, dumbass," Kanda replied without having to raise his voice on decibel louder.

"What?" Allen cupped his hand over his ear and leaned closer to his lover. "I can't hear you over the rap!"

"Tch, that's the point."

"_What_? Speak louder!"

"This is part one of your punishment, asshole!"

"_What_?" Allen had to admit it now; he was repeatedly asking what his lover said to solely to irritate him – he had been an expert at reading lips ever since Kanda first mouthed to him to go on a date with him from across the school hallway so they wouldn't be heard.

Although Allen could not physically hear what his lover said to him, he didn't even need to know how to speak English as Kanda used his middle finger to communicate with him.

To add insult to injury, the androgynous creature turned the rap to full blast, letting the horrid rhyming symphony comprised of articulate words such as "drugs," "sexy," or "money," swarm into Allen's ears. The noise of his screaming tonight would be preferable over this shit.

Reaching his hand over, Allen attempted to turn the volume down – and turn it _off _altogether – when his hand was unmercifully slapped away.

"It stays on," Kanda smirked – knowing full well that even if he lied and said: _'I'm cheating on you with the Ass-Rabbit_' his lover would still be unable to hear him.

Allen gritted his teeth and glared at him. The urge to strangle the hermaphrodite beside him with the ten tubes of Chap Stick which he had stuck in the glove compartment was rising with every passing second, as his overflowing fury successfully poured over his veins.

Hold on. Glove compartment. Why did that ring a bell…?

Reality was proving to be more ferocious than Kanda as it smacked reason into Allen for around the sixth time that day.

There were earmuffs in the glove compartment!

Allen remembered now – he had placed them there after that one instance where he drugged Kanda's soba with laxatives the night before a big meeting. His livid partner had lectured him and berated him in between visits to the bathroom. During the car ride to the landfill (Kanda had sworn he would dump Allen in there for making him go to the bathroom every five minutes), the disturbed boy had carefully stashed earmuffs in said compartment so he could drown out the man (or whatever the doctor who delivered him claimed he was) just in case he did anything stupid to ager Kanda again.

Well, now was one of those times again.

After six months of laying in wait, the earmuffs would finally fulfill its destiny – to save Allen's ears from danger; which in this case was in the form of an obese man spewing garbage from his lips through a radio, and into the hypnotized publics' ears.

His ears bled as his fingers took their grand old time fumbling with the clasp to the compartment. If he didn't open it right now, he wouldn't even last long enough to see Lenalee in her wedding gown, nor would he get to return the gift card to Victoria's Secret that Lavi had purchased to him for his birthday.

If he died right now due to rap-overdose, he would never get to feel Kanda fulfill his threat of sticking his external reproductive organ up Allen's-

"-Thank _God_," The boy spoke in a cold sweat as the compartment finally flipped open. Plucking the vermilion earmuffs from their perch, Allen shuddered. This headpiece's color would be what the sheets looked like if he somehow didn't manage to evade Kanda's "punishment" tonight – and all week if he didn't get out of the store in time.

He gulped for the seventh time since he entered the car.

The God-awful "music" was slightly drowned out as he placed the mufflers over his bleeding ears.

_Now, time to think of an escape plan_, Allen thought, closing his eyes in an attempt to clear his mind of any other distractions.

He could always pretend to be kidnapped by some unknown assailant and… no. Just like putting the rotten apples in the pudding-cakes, that plan would lead to nothing other than something spoiled. Or… he could call Cross to "kidnap" him! It was the perfect plan! Cross would "coincidently" meet them there, butter up Kanda for a bit, and then when said violator went to go get a shopping cart, the piano tutor would then "coerce" Allen to hop into his trunk. It was flawless!

Wait. But his avaricious piano teacher wouldn't do this deed for nothing, obviously. Either Allen would have to pay him with money he didn't have upfront, or _worse_: He'd have to steal all of Kanda's alcohol in the house to give to him – and knowing his piano teacher's taste for mind-numbing beverages with a side dish of seeing his apprentice in pain, it would be the latter.

However harsh Kanda's punishment for eating the cakes would be, the price to pay for auctioning off his alcohol would be at least tenfold. Allen cringed at the mere thought, and crossed "get kidnapped" off of his list of potential ways to escape.

Allen was still trying to think of yet another way to escape as the Jaguar rounded the curb.

"Here we fucking are," Kanda snarled, his grip over the steering wheel growing tighter as he turned into the surprisingly vacant parking lot. How he _hated_ supermarkets. The only things he may have loathed more than supermarkets was the music that Allen and his piano emitted and parties.

Allen slowly took his earmuffs off from his ears as God finally answered his prayers and allowed the rap to shut off.

"Why is it so empty?" Allen asked rhetorically as he pressed his nose against the window. How he _loved_ supermarkets. The only things that he may have adored more than supermarkets were the food they held, and the man sitting beside him.

"Because you're fucking here."

Allen rolled his eyes before placing his hand over the stick shift. He knew that Kanda didn't need it to drive, but they both knew what his putting his hand over it signified.

"Tch," Kanda sneered, but placed his hand over the boy he loved's regardless.

"Why is it taking you so long to park?" The pajama-clad boy asked, shifting positions so that his hand didn't lose circulation from under his lover's lethal smothering.

When Kanda didn't respond, Allen knew to expect the worst.

"Kanda… you're not planning on doing something stupid, are you?"

His only reply was the sound of the tires rolling over tar – a noise than could only be heard in the quietest of situations.

"Kanda…" Allen felt himself gulp again. "You're not going to drive through the Stop & Shop, right?"

No response.

"_Right_?"

Kanda's silence was almost as final as the cakes after their screams were subdued by Allen's mouth.

"Kanda," Allen croaked, his eyes bulging almost to the point of exploding. "Kanda – I know that you hate shopping, but smashing through the window won't do anyth–_Kanda_!"

Slamming his foot against the gas pedal, Kanda lurched the car forward, heading straight for the glass windows of the Super Stop & Shop.

As the speeding car neared the windows, Allen's shrieking intensified. His throat was hoarse but he couldn't stop screaming. He tried to free his hand on the stick shift from Kanda's deadly grip, but it was almost as futile as his tries to coerce said rectum robber into believing that the pudding-cakes were in their natural state.

If he just hadn't eaten the cakes, he wouldn't be about to die!

If Allen weren't strapped in he would have been propelled through the car window as the Jaguar swerved to the left and safely glided down to rows of parking spaces. Kanda "parked" (if stepping off of the gas pedal and sliding into a parked position could be classified as such) erratically and took up three parking spaces.

Allen's heart was pumping so loudly that he could literally _hear_ it; his chest heaved; and even his organs cowered in fear as an overwhelming feeling of hatred flooded through him, washing away the remainder of his fear, and excreting it from his body with a single glance towards his lover to explain himself.

Kanda flashed Allen a twisted grin, and released his hand from its captivity on the stick shift.

"You think I would scratch my Jaguar?"

Allen almost vomited the remains of the deceased cakes into Kanda's lap.

"You're a real prick, you know that?" The boy gasped as he envisioned himself sticking the stick shift where his hand had been recently held hostage down Kanda's esophagus, and then taking a pickaxe to his all-too-precious car.

"And you're a fucking pansy," Kanda countered, opening the car door. "Haul your fat-ass out, Bottom, because we're walking all the way there."

By "There" Kanda was referring to the supermarket, which he had successfully parked a good sixty feet away from. Allen would have to walk in humiliation to the supermarket with his blue, dough-caked polar bear pajamas. The prospect of using the trunk as a guillotine to behead Kanda was looking friendly.

"I _hate_ you."

"Then you'll have a fucking _ball_ tonight, bitch."

"I'm not your bitch-"

"-_Yet_."

Racking his mind for the proper rebuttal, Allen resisted the bloodthirsty idea of tearing off his lover's excessive hair with his bear hands, and then forcing it down his throat.

"You can't even fucking answer me because you know I'm damn right."

"Why don't you cut off your disgusting manhood and stuff it down your throat so you can choke?"

Kanda simpered as his small partner stepped out of the car. Encircling his lover's waist with the palm of his hand, the man slammed his surprisingly slim body against the side of the Jaguar. Allen glared.

"If I do that, then I can't fuck you tonight now can I?" The man whispered as he pressed his hips against his lover's. Allen shuddered, swallowing bile.

"Well, I hate to break it to you, _Fag_anda, but you and your…" He attempted to find the most eloquent word to describe Kanda's heightened… excitement. "_Bulge_ will have to wait. You said that you wouldn't… 'rape me' until this is all over, correct?"

"You won't be able to fucking move for days," The epicene man snarled, though he complied and his hands returned to his sides – where they _belonged_.

As they walked towards the supermarket, Allen wrapped his arms around his slight frame. He wasn't expecting it to be this cold. The air nipped at him – colder than the freezer with the accident-waiting-to-happen inside.

Despite how miserable the pastry-murderer was; his lover's mood was quite the contrasting factor. Kanda was striding and looking prouder than the first time that he heard those special three words escape Allen's lips.

"It's so cold," Allen mumbled through chapped lips, coveting a tube of Chap Stick – there were _ten_ of them, after all! And why hadn't he taken the earmuffs with him on his trek to Stop & Shop?

Why had he even put himself in this situation in the first place? The cakes hadn't even tasted like anything!

"Fuck you."

"What'll you do if I get frostbite and my limbs have to be surgically hacked off?" Allen challenged as he attempted to duck his nose below the collar of Kanda's sweater.

"It'll be your fucking fault, dipshit. You're the one who decided to be a fucking pig and stuff your face with the cakes – why the Hell did you even offer to bake them anyway?"

Too cold to respond, Allen bowed his head to his moving feet in order to shield his face from the bitter air. He periodically looked up to see if he had gotten any closer to his destination, and looked down disappointed every time. The frigid air was passing straight through the thin material of his pajamas and chilling him to the core.

Biting his lip, Allen averted his eyes from the supermarket up ahead and looked at Kanda when he looked up. Kanda only glowered, rolled his eyes, and deflected his lover's glance by looking ahead of him.

Allen's eyes returned to his feet.

As he was preparing himself to take a few pungent steps more, he felt something heavy resting on his shoulders. It was a black jacket - _Kanda's_ black jacket.

"But then you'll be cold," Allen affirmed, though he was already placing one hand through the armhole of the coat.

"Tch, I don't get cold," Kanda alleged, refusing to look at his lover and having him discover that he did, in fact, care about his well being.

"Because you're a naturally cold person?" Allen offered, his grin spreading on his face faster than the littered bodies of the dead pixel animals that Kanda murdered whilst playing a hunting game in an arcade.

"Do you want me to fucking take the coat back?"

"No! No! I'm good!"

Jamming his hands into the pocket of his lover's jacket, Allen snuggled into its scratchy material. It smelled like Kanda. His lover had a very distinct scent – after doing the man's laundry for half a year, Allen picked up on it. The man's scent was that of flowers – a delicate aroma that contrasted greatly with his obstinate personality.

Allen closed his eyes as warmth and love flooded throughout his body.

Inhale.

Exhale.

_Kanda_.

"Oi, Sprout."

"Hn?" The boy cocked his head in his semi-conscious state.

"Are you getting fucking _high_ off of my damn jacket?"

Popping his eyes open, Allen's drifting mind jumped back into its skin.

"I swear, only someone like you would think of something like that," Allen scolded.

"Then stop fucking daydreaming and pay attention, Sprout. We're here," He paused, though his sentence was soon followed by profanity. "Damn."

For the second time that day, a chorus of angels sang out for Allen. The clouds parted to reveal the big, glorious Super Stop & Shop in front of him. Allen held his breath.

"_Beautiful_," He breathed, refraining from lunging forward, grabbing a cart, and flying in.

"Don't fucking tell me you're having an orgasm over a block of painted bricks."

"Drop dead."

"In fact, the only thing you're entitled to orgasm over is my-"

"-Let's go in now!"

As Allen trotted off to go get a cart, Kanda glowered at the potential love-rival. In his mind's eye, the building was the entrance to Hell. Satan cackled overhead as lightning illuminated the store.

Kanda inwardly shuddered.

"See? I told knew you'd be cold," Allen pouted, finally returning to his partner's side.

"I'm not fucking cold," Kanda muttered. A satisfied grin tugged at the corners of his lips as he spoke. "I'm just fucking _shaking_ with excitement for this week."

The urge to decapitate Kanda seemed promising again. Did he still have enough time to run back to the Jaguar, flip open its trunk, and dump the contents of his stomach into it?

"I hate you, you know that?" The automatic doors to Heaven slid open as Allen strode in. He waited a brief minute for his lover to follow suit. "Are you coming or not?"

Kanda glared at the sliding doors to Hell, wondering if the benefits outweighed the risk enough for him to step inside. A barely-audible smirk crossed his face as he thought about this upcoming week's prize he would undoubtedly win.

He stepped inside.

"Timer starts now, Sprout."

Allen's face crumpled. He had almost completely assured himself that his lover had forgotten about their little "deal" back in the house.

"Well, we might as well go shopping for our other groceries – there's no point in not doing it while we're here," Allen croaked, pondering if he should even take the plunge and risk his life even more by following his words.

Kanda sniggered.

"It's your ass on the line, bi-"

-The front of the wagon made contact with Kanda's butt as Allen rammed it into him. Now it was Allen's turn to let the contented smile spread over his face.

"You fucking Beansprout!"

Allen's grin widened to new disturbing heights as he unmercifully slammed the cart into Kanda's rear again.

"I'll fucking stick that cart down your stem and flatten your chloroplasts with those damn wheels, Sprout."

"I'm just imagining what I'm going to do to you when I top you," The boy cackled as he made his way to the fruit.

"You fucking me is like Lenalee doing Daisya."

Allen cringed at the mental image of his best friend and Kanda's ex-college roommate with their legs interlaced under Lenalee's pink sheets.

"Dear God, I think I want to claw out my retinas now."

"Ditto."

As Allen placed the apples he deemed worthy of being shoved into his oral cavity into a plastic baggie, he couldn't help but watch as Kanda periodically checked the clock on the wall.

It was almost as if the man were _willing_ time to go faster by intimidating the red and white clock with a look.

Wait… just how much time had passed already? Would Kanda tell him when he was nearing the five-minute mark?

Would Kanda even have the decency to clue him in if he _passed_ ten minutes?

As he forced his eyes to flicker away from his murderous lover, Allen swallowed anxiety-flavored saliva.

"We need pocky," He proposed, moving in the direction of where he believed said treat to be located.

"Shouldn't we just buy the baking shit first?"

"I know what I'm doing."

"Tch, don't get lost."

Before Allen could take one step closer to the international aisle, Kanda latched his hand around his wrist and yanked him back to square one.

"Kanda! What the Heck?"

"I _refuse_ to fucking wheel the wagon," The man proclaimed. His deadpanned tone mixed with the raw resentment of his slowly reddening features, creating something that reminded Allen of either an escaped lab rat or a sociopath.

Due to Kanda's threats of inhabiting his anus, Allen chose the latter.

"You know I hate pushing the cart-"

"-Fuck you. _You're_ the reason why I'm here in the fucking first place, so _you're_ wheeling the damn wagon."

Allen opened his mouth to interject-

"-You're either wheeling the cart or I'm wheeling _you_ right here in aisle one," He smirked. "Your choice."

Allen took the wheel of the cart and smashed it into his lover's derrière again as an answer.

"Fuck!" Kanda hollered, whirling on Allen. The two cashiers on duty looked over, one of who didn't look away.

"You're lucky it's so deserted here that no one heard you," Allen feigned-seriousness, as he reached his arm out and dumped the entire shelf of strawberry, chocolate, and vanilla-flavored pocky into his already half-full cart.

"I'm lucky it's so deserted that no one will fucking hear you _scream_."

"Oh no! I think I just wet my panties!" Allen's high-pitched voice cracked the glass of the vanilla-scented candle that he recently flung into the wagon.

"Tch, coming from the boy who has nine minutes left."

In reality, Allen had _eight,_ but Kanda wasn't one for telling the truth – or potentially not being able to have his lover down on his knees for an entire week. That offer was just too golden to pass up.

As they cleared out of aisle one and began their descent into aisle two, Kanda made eye contact with the amber-contact lenses of one of the cashiers. The man offered him a bemused smirk before returning his attention back to whatever had been keeping him enamored prior to his glancing at Kanda.

As Kanda followed the man's gaze, he felt acid begin to pump through his veins. That damn cashier was staring at_ his_ Beansprout's ass!

Knowing that the man with a death wish was obviously not gaping at the polar bears on the seat of his lover's pants, Kanda narrowed his eyes at the man. He figured that would be all it took in order to get him to back off. The clown at the carnival that had looked at his Beansprout the wrong way had ended up leaving the circus on a stretcher. Well, that was because he had an asthma attack, but Kanda would swear on the life of his hidden sleeping pills that his threatening to hack off what made the clown a man had something to do with his epidemic.

Kanda glared as the cashier ran a hand through his disgruntled, chocolate curls and merely flashed his surprisingly perfect teeth at him.

Kanda felt his blood pressure rising – and not just because of the fact that the man's teeth were more luminous than the sun.

'Back off,' the inflamed man mouthed to the suicidal cashier. The man, conceited as he was, merely shrugged off Kanda's warning.

'Make me,' the man mouthed back, his tongue rolling over the words before he soundlessly spat them into Kanda's face.

'He's mine.'

The dark-skinned accountant, complacent as ever, looked unconvinced as he rapped his nails against the side of the register.

'_Prove it_.'

Sneering as if he were waiting for the chance to claim ownership, Kanda's wandering hand found its way to the very place on his lover's body that he planned to drive himself into that night.

Allen yelped and smacked Kanda's hand away from his butt.

"You pervert!" Allen contended, coveting that bottle of pepper spray again. "God, what's wrong with you?"

"You know I'm fucking bad at waiting," Kanda looked down at Allen's watch. "Seven minutes."

Though Allen legitimately had _five_.

"Keep your hands and your-" Allen glanced at his lover's nightly weapon of choice. "_Thing_ to yourself."

Kanda snorted as he returned his direction to the cashier – praying that he had witnessed the display.

The fucking cashier made a scene of yawning before lowering the Best Buy catalogue that he was reading upside-down.

Kanda wanted nothing more than to open the register and close it on the man's pe-

'-This bitch is _mine_.' Kanda mouthed.

'_Bitch?_ Does he come with a collar and leash set?'

Oh, how Kanda would _love_ to take Mugen from the back pocket of his jeans and slash this man's throat with it.

In response, Kanda stuck his middle finger up into the air.

'Harsh,' the man mouthed, feigning distress. Suddenly, the cashier's face brightened, and Kanda could swear that he saw a light bulb flicker over his head.

A small smile adorning his features, the tanned cashier leaned over, flipped on a switch, and placed a telephone-like device to his lips.

"Attention customers, attention customers," The man spoke in a voice deeper than Kanda had expected. "We're having a sale for the beautiful woman in the frozen food section. Lucky you! All menstrual items are coming on sale!" The cashier made eye contact with said "beautiful woman" who was steadily turning every color of the spectrum. Perfect.

"Oh, wait," A pause. Kanda knew the worst had yet to come. "It seems you _already _have something jammed up your-" He fumbled with the microphone purposely, the trademark narcissistic smirk never leaving his face. "-My mistake."

The bastard was grinning ear to ear. A blood vessel burst in Kanda's brain.

Allen giggled.

Make that two.

The man hung up the line. The overused song "Bleeding Love" returned.

Kanda's bloodthirsty thoughts of buying all the "menstrual items" he could fit into his grasp and shoving them all simultaneously up the cashier's ass were interrupted by the sound of a petite, endearing voice that could only belong to one person.

Well, at least the one person Kanda knew with such a high-pitched voice that possessed a male reproductive organ.

"Kanda, would you rather Maruchan or Nissin noodles?"

Blinking back into reality, Kanda looked down to the face of his puzzled lover. Allen had successfully covered five aisles without getting lost while he was engaged in mortal combat defending his ass. Impressive.

"What? Um, which do you like better?"

Allen stared at him as if he had just cannibalized his own arm. Was Kanda – the heartless bastard who had single-handedly scared him more than the Grim Reaper did after he played The Sims for six consecutive hours – seriously asking for _his_ opinion?

Allen's lips opened wider than they had to accommodate all of the cakes that he shoved into his mouth.

"Kanda, you're scaring me."

"Get the one with the fucking happy face on it – I don't care."

Rolling his eyes at his lover's newfound incompetence, Allen reached his hand down into the frozen counter-like area where the bags of ramen were kept. His fingers grazed the multicolored bag, but he couldn't quite wrap his hands around it.

"Crap," The boy muttered as he got on the tips of his toes. As he leaned his body completely over the edge in order to grab his target, it looked more like the boy was a male prostitute rather than some innocent fool in a compromising position.

Kanda heard the distinct sound of a whistle from the region where the vain cashier was propping himself against the cash register to get a better look.

Oh, that was fucking _it._

His hands clenching in and out of fists, Kanda traipsed over to wipe that damn smug look off from that ridiculously attractive cashier's face – _permanently_.

He could just _feel_ the man's blood running through his hands – he wouldn't be satisfied until it was. He could just taste the sweet victory on his tongue as he would hear the cashier's pleas for mercy, while tearing his disheveled coils out from his head with the duct tape precariously placed next to him.

He could just hear the apologies that he would force the damn cashier with the badge that read "Hello-my-name-is: Mikk" to spew to Allen.

If not that, Kanda would always settle for using Mugen to mutilate the man's so-obviously erect di-

"-Kanda."

All of the adrenaline pouring out of him as the sound of his name from his lover's lips interceded his homicidal and immoral intentions; Kanda whirled.

The expression adorning Kanda's features as he faced Allen successfully made his hideous face back at the house after discovering the cakes look like a basket of roses tied neatly with a pink satin ribbon in comparison. His look at the moment was a mixture of hatred, annoyance, murder, and hunger – not an attractive expression, mind you.

Allen stifled a chortle by biting his lip.

"They have sushi."

His previously ferocious thoughts of murdering the cashier in cold blood currently being override by new thoughts of bathing in his lover's plaque-ridden blood, Kanda scowled at Allen.

"_No_."

"But I'm hungry!" Allen whined, legitimately wondering how he could have possibly gotten famished after eating two large cakes and with his time running so short.

"Then _starve_. Two cakes should be enough to tide you and your fat ass over."

Just when Allen was about to give up, his third "epiphany" of the night struck him hard enough to almost be classified as a type five hurricane, or his lover in bed after he had gotten demoted.

"Kanda, if you don't buy me sushi, God help me I will tell the police how you threatened to rape me."

"Tch, I'm not threatening. I'm _going_ _to_."

"My point exactly."

The cashier with the deviating eye was completely off of Kanda's radar now – recently eclipsed by his own nagging Beansprout.

"If you do that, you're fucking sleeping in your damn dog's cage."

"No," Allen corrected, tossing stray achromatic hairs from his eyes. "_I'll_ be happily asleep at home, as well as being able to walk for the next few years. _You'll_ be the one sleeping in a cage, Kanda. You'll be rotting in a cell getting butt-fucked yourself."

Kanda was showing the signs of becoming a tomato again.

"Now then, still want to deny me my well-deserved sushi?" Allen beamed, twirling a chalky lock in between his fingertips.

"I swear to God, Beansprout, one day I'm going to fucking _kill_ you."

Allen smiled, commending himself for his guts.

"That's nice. I like California rolls."

Muttering ways he would like to rape or murder his risky partner under his breath, Kanda stalked off to get a box of sushi from the seafood area.

As he watched the benevolent picture of his pertner's defeated frame walking away, Allen turned his full attention to his watch.

He had around a good minute to achieve his objective.

Trying to recall the stories the Ass-Rabbit would tell him about how he would sometimes reset Lenalee's watch to appear as if it were three hours earlier so she could stay home longer, Allen racked his brain for the redhead's instructions on how to reset digital watch's times.

If he could just reset his watch's time, he could make it seem as if he had five minutes extra. That way, he didn't have to have the nauseating feeling of having his lover's… _thing_ up his ass the entire week.

Allen watched as Kanda bent over the sushi bin, looking for the type of fish that he had chosen specifically because they _didn't have it._ It would probably take Kanda a good thirty seconds of looking before he got agitated and returned to yell at Allen – meaning that he had that much time to remember how to rewind a digital watch's time.

_I'm so screwed_. Allen meant in both the physical and mental sense of the word.

Allen could begin to see the familiar look of annoyance pass over Kanda's face.

Fifteen seconds.

As he took off the watch Kanda had bought him to see if anything would jar his memory, he recognized one of the buttons on the backside of the watch.

He heard the distinct grunt signifying Kanda's heightened agitation.

Allen felt anxiety-induced adrenaline begin to dictate his actions as he jammed his finger against the button, and then flipped it around to see to see the screen.

It worked.

All of his memory returning to him in thick waves, Allen pressed the side buttons in order to insert the new time.

"5:25 PM" Allen punched in the new numbers to his fake time, giving himself five extra minutes than he initially had.

He finished. It was done.

Exhaling the breath he was trapping inside his bursting diaphragm, Allen grinned. There was _no way_ he wouldn't be able to finish shopping with the extra time he had given himself.

Allen just hoped that Kanda would be too dim-witted to catch on.

"There's no fucking California rolls, dipshit."

Abruptly snapped back into the cold reality of the frozen food section, Allen cocked his head.

"What are you talking about?"

"The California rolls, moron. The ones that you made me go fucking find for you. They're not fucking here."

"We're in public, nitwit. Act civil."

"Tch, hypocrite."

"Jerk."

"Beansprout."

"_Fag_anda."

Scoffing, Kanda returned his attention to the already-filled cart. He saw a flicker of movement in the direction of one of the registers as the retina-pleasing cashier gave Kanda a small wave. The man almost had an aneurysm right then and there – surrounded by tubs of Neapolitan and containers of kid's meals in aisle five.

"Do you even fucking _eat _orange popsicles?" He asked, picking up one of the many unnecessary boxes that Allen had forgotten he even put in the cart.

Before Allen opened his mouth to reply, Kanda responded for him.

"Oh wait, I forgot that I'm talking to The Vacuum."

Allen was about to find the proper rebuttal to berate Kanda with, but then he felt _it._

"It" being the undeniable urge to excrete liquid from one's overflowing bladder into the proper receptacle complete with plumbing.

Allen's pupils dilated.

God must _really_ have hated him.

"K-Kanda…"

Kanda's eyes flickered towards his younger lover as he propped his hands against the handle of the cart.

"What the fuck do you want, Sprou-?"

"-I have to pee."

_Perfect_, Kanda smirked.

"You should have gone when we were at the house. Too bad."

"But _Kanda_," Allen stressed the vowels of his lover's name as his hands unwillingly clasped together and clenched around his pelvis area. "I didn't have to go back then, I have to go _now._"

"Then go, I'm not your fucking mother."

"I can't."

"Why the fuck not?" Kanda snorted, his eyes narrowing as he imagined a giant puddle of yellow at Allen's feet.

On the bright side, Allen's pissing in the frozen food aisle would undoubtedly turn that damn cashier off…

"You know why, _imbecile_!" Allen exclaimed, his hands clenching into a tighter fist.

The slow man finally picked up what his lover was implying.

"You really fucking think that you're going to fucking guilt _me_ into giving you extra time? Who do you think you're taking to, bitch?"

"Please?" The boy implored, sporadically shaking his arms in an up and down motion to signify his distress. He could have just as easily gone to the bathroom with the "bonus" time that he had recently granted himself, but that would just be such a waste.

Well, he supposed that he was contradicting his reasoning as to refusing to using the bathroom without Kanda giving him extra time by standing there and reducing his currently waning time, but…

"_No_."

"Please?"

"The answer's not changing, stupid."

"_Please_!" The boy begged, already reverting to performing his infamous 'I-have-to-go' dance of bouncing from one foot to the other.

Fucking God was going to have Allen dehumanize himself by forcing him to _urinate_ all over the floor. Allen could already picture the ditzy-looking blonde cashier (with the dark eye shadow and a gender more questionable than his lover's own) pulling out a mop and sweeping the yellow liquid into a bucket, while the more physically appealing cashier would simply shake his head.

Worse: What would _Kanda_ do to him after the seat of his polar bear pajama pants was dampened?

Was this public humiliation really necessary? All he had done was stuff his face with cake!

_Dear God, kill me._

"Two minutes."

Allen blinked, not sure if either he had just heard his lover give him his way or his ears were stuffed with earwax.

"Huh?"

"You heard me. I'm giving you fucking two minutes extra to take a Goddamn leak."

Spurred to tears by his lover's newfound "generosity," Allen found that he suddenly didn't care who knew of his sexuality or even if his bladder exploded in these next few seconds and urine flew everywhere. Leaping forward, Allen wrapped his arms around Kanda's neck and pressed his lips against his.

It was a short, unsatisfying peck-of-the-lips, but it was enough to spend Allen's heart rate soaring off the charts.

Kanda tasted just like the always did – overcooked soba, and although Allen personally hated soba due to his lover's uncanny obsession with it, at the moment he found that there was nothing that could possibly taste sweeter.

As took a turn Allen wasn't expecting and deepened, Kanda found himself giving a victory glance towards the direction of the cashier – who couldn't even pretend hide his jealousy under an appliance magazine at this point.

"I _love_ you," Allen beamed, nuzzling his nose into his lover's muscular jugular.

"What happened to the 'I hate you'?"

"That proclamation was vetoed after I remembered just how great you are," Allen giggled into the crook of Kanda's neck.

"Tch," Kanda turned his head towards the frozen boxes of chicken fingers in order to hide the pink blossoming in his cheeks. "Go to the bathroom, Sprout."

"While I'm in the bathroom, keep shopping, okay?"

"Five, six, seven…"

"Okay, okay!"

As the boy literally skipped into the lavatory, Kanda could swear that he saw rainbows, small animals, and flowers sprout up wherever he walked. He also knew that his accident-prone lover knew where the restroom was located without getting lost once solely because of the neon sign hanging above the lavatory reading: "Men's."

'Need more proof?' Kanda mouthed, facing the register where the perverted cashier was stationed.

He wasn't there.

Checking each register for the unmistakable face of the man, Kanda found that he couldn't find him. The only form of life that he could see by the registers was the vacant-looking cashier.

The teen-more-androgynous-than-Kanda was enamored by his or her brass-colored cell phone, and didn't notice the opposing hermaphrodite's eyes on his or her nether regions for any sign of what Allen had laying-in-wait under his boxers or for what Lenalee possessed under her skirt. After a good ten seconds, he was forced to unsuccessfully end the search for hanging manhood with the prospect of being sued for sexual harassment of an underpaid minor looming over him.

"I guess the fucker finally left," Kanda affirmed, jumping back to discussing the cashier whose eyes had lingered on what didn't belong to them. He was proud to admit that he was the triumphant party in the situation.

As he began moving down aisle six, Kanda was too immersed with his checking the nutrition facts on the box of oatmeal cookies too notice his target sneak into the bathroom…

Allen, being about the farthest from an exhibitionist as possible, never having used the urinal. _Never_.

He'd always pass it by on his way into the stalls, its white porcelain bowl gleaming under the dim lighting of the bathroom. As he excreted his business in a toilet safely inside a stall, Allen would always find himself rather unwillingly listening to the awkward conversations that men would try to make with one another as they took juxtaposed urinals.

Even after all of the disturbing dialogue that he caught coming from the lips of the men using one of the accursed basins, Allen still found no fault with their topics.

The compliments about how large the other man's hands were and small talk about shoe sizes didn't used to affect Allen as he sat in his little stall. However, after walking out of the graffiti-ridden haven to wash his hands one time, Allen discovered what the "large hand" and "shoe size" comments were _really_ about.

Ever since then, he refused to spill the contents of his bladder into one of those God-awful monsters.

Allen swore to be urinal-celibate for the rest of eternity.

But today was the day that all of his rules could be broken.

He was on a strict time limit, the engagement party started in three hours; he was beginning to get the first symptoms of The Hunger – a disease that often plagued him in supermarkets, and to top it all off: The bathroom was vacant.

What better time to conquer his irrational apprehension towards releasing his bodily waste into a urinal?

"Curiosity killed the cat," Allen mumbled as he situated himself in front of the glossy, white basin.

As soon as he did so, he froze.

His limbs quaked and his eyes darted about.

The urinal – perhaps just as sinful as the crumb cake assassin –glared from its conceited position against the wall. It winked at him under the bleary light.

"If I had a lead pipe," Allen threatened the inanimate object, his eyes narrowing. "You'd be worse than Mr. Boddy in a billiard room full of Professor Plums."

The urinal – smug as it was – smirked at him, enticing Allen to take a hammer to its carved bowl.

Allen wanted nothing more than to fling open the rather-unsanitary doors to the restroom and urinate in one of the cartons of lemonade – he just couldn't use a urinal.

No.

He could do this.

_I remembered how to reset a watch, I've eaten two cakes without consequence so far, and I've influenced Kanda to do things my way two more times than yesterday, _Allen thought, his eyelids squeezing together as his hands clenched in and out of fists. _I'm so close to getting off scot-free -_ _am I seriously going to let a _urinal _in Stop & Shop's loo_ _stop me now?_

He could do this - he had been through so much today that even his abnormal fear of urinals couldn't stop him now.

He could do this.

His hands found their way to the elastic waistband of his pants. Having no zipper to open meant that he would have to pull his pants _off_.

"I can do this," He attempted to convince himself, though his focus wasn't on that of the basin as his eyes flit towards the door.

He just _knew_ it would fling open as soon as he took his pants off.

"I can do this."

He _couldn't_ do this.

Crossing himself, he closed his eyes and took the plunge, yanking his pants down to his ankles.

…At the exact moment that the door swung open.

Allen's breath rapidly and grotesquely phase-changed into expired, lumpy milk and caught in his windpipe – choking him.

The man who had just walked in had front row seats to Allen's _naked ass_.

He couldn't pull up his pants and save the man's retinas form internal bleeding - at this point he was already in the process of evacuating his bladder.

He was too embarrassed to turn around and disclose the identity of the man.

Oh God – what if it _wasn't_ a man? What if it was a little girl with blonde pigtails and bright blue eyes with a lollipop that had accidently wandered into the men's room only to be scarred for life with the image of Allen's bare butt forever engraved into her subconscious?

Allen's breath came in ragged puffs.

What if it was a toddler who had recently learned of "stranger danger" and would forevermore think that Allen was a pedophile out to moon little boys?

Allen felt his eyes rolling back into their sockets, and foam dribble down his chin.

Or worst of all - what if the anonymous person was _Kanda_?

Allen almost vomited the cakes he had indulged himself with for the second time in the past few minutes.

Seeing the opportunity of Allen's naked rump, Kanda would undoubtedly act up on it - he wouldn't let such a good opportunity pass.

Oh God, he would fulfill his threats of defiling Allen's anus right here in the dirty, blue-tiled men's room!

Allen felt himself grow faint.

He was still gagging as the man took the urinal beside Allen – despite the fact that the boy was using the first in the row of plumbing devices, and that there were a good two or so more that the man could have chosen to do his business in.

If that wasn't conspicuous enough, the sound of bodily liquid falling into the urinal never reached Allen's ears.

What exactly was the man in the fucking bathroom for if he didn't even have to–?

-_Oh_, that's why.

Allen could feel the man's eyes on him almost as clearly as he could feel the man's tongue siding down his vertebrae – which was obviously what the he _wanted_.

His eyes peeking ever-so-slowly at the potential ravisher, Allen tried to imagine what kind of warped, twisted body he would find beside him.

He could just picture the man juxtaposed to him to be the silhouetted rapist from his nightmares.

Well, the one besides Kanda.

Lavi (who apparently liked to reach his hands down other men's back pockets in search of dollar bills) had always assured Allen that his horrors of having an organ forcefully shoved up his excretory opening in the still of night behind a dumpster were ridiculous. Lavi had soothed him by saying that he only had such ghoulish hallucinations due to the fact that he _lived_ with a rapist himself.

The phrases of comfort that the red-haired man had spoken proved to be just the opposite.

There was a dark man in the urinal next to Allen who was just standing there without relieving himself and it somehow _wasn't _Kanda.

Snapping his head to the left to see who the man was, Allen was shocked to find the inviting face of the cashier who had so-kindly pointed Kanda in the right direction to buy the tampons he was in desperate need of.

The corners of the man's lips arched into a refined, risqué smirk that would convince any other person who wasn't as committed as Allen to rip off their clothes in a moment of blindness over the man's radiant beauty.

His skin was the color of the mocha coffee in which Allen had suffocated in milk and whipped cream and Kanda had yelled at him for buying. From the looks of it, it probably tasted _sweeter_. The man had an endearing mop of bedraggled chocolatey coils – _real_ curls, not the faux, temporary ones that Lenalee created using the curling iron Allen had bought her last Christmas.

For once in his short life, Allen found another man more beautiful than the man he loved.

And it was the entirely the urinal's fault.

Despite his flawless appearance, Allen didn't know whether to classify the man as a recently bailed-out child molester or a cocky, drop dead gorgeous man who dropped out of Harvard Law and ended up punching numbers into a register instead.

_How long has it been that I last went?_ Allen wondered, his tensions rising as he tried to decipher why exactly his body had so much waste to dispose of while trying to ignore the man's lingering scrutiny.

Allen offered the man a small smile.

The man's gaze dropped. His grin broadened.

Allen's murderous thoughts returned.

_Just stop peeing already!_ Allen urged his draining bladder, knowing all-too-well from personal experience that if he didn't get the _fuck_ out of the restroom right then and there, he would either crawl out with his unattached butt in his hands or he would be arrested for murder.

Which was the lesser of two evils?

_I hate urinals. I hate urinals._

Perhaps Allen had it all wrong: Maybe he was just a lonely, pitiable soul who wanted male-to-male bonding in the playground of urinals?

…Or maybe he was a minimum wage paid, ridiculously attractive low-life with a fetish for finding sweet looking boys foolishly using urinals and pressing them against the dirty, tiled wall of the Super & Stop's men's room whilst sticking his dangling ferret where it didn't belong.

Allen closed his eyes and shuddered.

The awkwardness of the situation only intensified as the liquid pouring into the urinal came to a halt.

There _was_ a God.

Yanking his boxers up faster than he had closed the blinds to his and Kanda's bedroom window last night after he saw the neighbor across the way pull out a digital camera, Allen concealed his private area from the older man's wandering eyes.

Was it just him, or did the cashier's face fall after his external organ for procreation was out of sight?

Allen's jaw clenched and his molars bit the inside of his cheek as his anger heightened.

_Am I some peep show to him?_

Allen's thoughts were proved to be correct as the man's amber eyes trailed him to the porcelain sink, the look of pure lust in his eyes indicating that the man was imagining the delightful sight of his clothes evaporating.

All bets were off for the man being some misunderstood hobo. He was a full-blown rapist now.

If it weren't for his sickeningly optimistic outlook on life, Allen's would have already been sticking the perverted bastard's happy-go-lucky face into the urinal that he had recently urinated into.

Waving his hands under the automatic sink in an attempt to get it to turn on, Allen refused to look through the mirror and see who was all-too-obviously gaping at him as if he were some totem for homoeroticism placed in the bathroom for his personal pleasure.

The stubborn sink blatantly refused to turn on.

What was it with inanimate objects out to get him today?

His animosity increasing if possible, Allen sporadically shook his hands underneath the cheap sink.

"Turn on!" He exclaimed, earning a snicker from his imposing stalker with the unnaturally good looks.

The prospect of using his anger alone to melt through the metal of the sink and then shoving the basin down the grinning pervert's throat was seeming more and more inviting with every second that Allen was stuck in the restroom with him.

_Don't kill him, _Allen breathed as the sink finally accepted his offer to work.

The water slipped through Allen's fingers and landed in the basin with perfect accuracy. The way that the boy erotically lathered his palms with the soap seemed to belong in some Hue Heffner home video rather than on the security tapes of a local Super Stop & Shop.

The man stared as if he had never seen anything quite so exciting in his entire life. His eyes were bigger than the all-too-apparent excitement in his nether regions.

Allen shuddered as his hands gripped around the metal bar of the sink, forcing himself to take his choler out upon the neck of the appliance rather than the neck of the pervert.

A low, appealing snicker escaped the man's mouth as Allen violently ripped the paper towels from their respective box.

Allen suddenly decided that he would like nothing better than to see the man choke on the paper towels in his hands. If he somehow didn't suffocate, maybe he could put the brown paper in his shrine.

His once-heavy bladder had now been emptied, his hands had been thoroughly washed and dried, and yet he felt dirtier than he ever had in his entire life before.

He was done. He could finally leave the Godforsaken lavatory.

_It's about time_, Allen huffed as he made his way to the exit. However, something stopped him.

Turning around to face his newfound stalker, Allen allowed an insignificant smile cross his face.

"Don't you have to go to the bathroom?" He beamed at the man who he may just have hated almost as much as his previous tormentor, Cross.

The man returned the ever-treasured smile as he turned around and leaned his limber body against the tiled wall.

"Nope."

Strike that, this man had successfully surpassed Cross to become number one on Allen's "most hated persons" list. It was a feat worthy of the utmost pats on the back and knives in the abdomen.

Allen glared at the man. The barbaric look in his eyes spelled out all of the words that the cashier didn't want to hear.

Before he could succumb to temptation and murder the man who was hogging all of the beauty, Allen used one of his lover's techniques in the anger management class he had been assigned to go to after he had pummeled the drunkard who had nearly killed his lover.

Taking his sixth deep breath of the night, Allen closed his eyes and walked out of the bathroom. Before his second foot stepped back into the supermarket world, he heard the insidious-yet-gorgeous man call to him once more.

"Nice ass."

* * *

I honestly have no excuses for this one - oh wait, I do. :D

I tried to make it live up to expectations, I honestly did... but the chapter was getting excessive, was dragging out, and consistently was latching its girth onto the "topic-hop" bandwagon. Naturally, I had to condense it and put all of the epic that I initially promised would be in chapter three into the next chapter. For lack of a better term: Sorry. I'll try harder next time.

Lexi helped me edit this to such a degree that she actually told me in a fit of rage that she would _never_ help me edit anything again. Awesome.

It also got Boo angry that Lexi and I were up so late on a school night, so now we're banned from sleeping in the basement on weekdays. Naturally, I hate this chapter because of all of the sacrifices I had to make for it.

On a lighter note... Happy Valentine's Day, guys! I hope everyone gets a lot of candy to make up for the fact that all of the sugar in my house is hidden! :D

Oh, and someone _better_ answer this question for me - I'll seriously _drop dead_ if I don't find out: _What was the infamous lemonade scene from Enzai: Falsely Accused? _ Seriously, I _need_ to know. Message it to me, tell it in a review, give it to me through morse code - I don't care. _I_ _need to know. _It'll enhance my life if I know what happened, so stop shaking your head. No, I'm not "too young" to handle it. I'll seriously _die_ if someone doesn't tell me.

By the way, the next chapter of Decadent: "Lust" will be out on my fourteenth birthday, March 7th... but only if I find out what the lemonade scene was. ;D


	4. Lust

**Dedications :D**

Novelist Pup: For inadvertently traumatizing me by answering my "lemonade" question (I laughed, then gagged, then wretched). Also, his reviews are (for lack of a better, more fitting term) funny, and convince me to keep writing. :D

conspiredfate: Despite the fact that she has a Godly writing style, she is down-to-Earth and sweet. She (including Novelist Pup and SunMikk) is my one of my many inspirations for writing. The poignant hues of her stories make me ill--they are _that _eloquent. One day, I hope that I can be as awesome at writing as she is. :)

SunMikk: You're the best twin ever (no, not just because you saved my sorry ass and edited this chapter for me)! Happy birthday to you as well! Upton Punch! Sinclair Kick!

Kayla: Not only is she my best friend besides SunMikk, but she also created a blueprint of the beginning for me (with the Fruity Pebbles and stuff). She is super tall, and she mocks me daily for being vertically challenged (I'm 4'11" and stopped growing two years ago). She printed out all forty-six pages of "Lust," and ten pages of "Chuu! Kissy Lovesprout!" so she could read them during school (you didn't have to do that! It made me feel guilty!). She is very selfless and sweet. There aren't even words to depict how much I love this person--Hell, I even edited this dedication section for her sake! She makes every day a fun one. :)

Happy fourteenth birthday to me, happy fourteenth birthday to me! :D

Have fun reading, guys! I actually _love_ this chapter!

* * *

Trying to ignore the cashier's final "compliment," Allen grimaced. With every step that he took farther away from the restroom, his conscience (which was currently fending off the urge to run back into the bathroom armed with a pack of toothpicks and Saran Wrap) was growing weaker.

Allen could still picture that pervert inside the bathroom, imagining his naked backside. If the ridiculously attractive peeper wasn't choking on his own chortles, perhaps he was spending the time by drawing a picture of the boy's bare butt on the walls with a sharpie before its glorious image left his mind. Allen shuddered at the mere thought.

"That man was worse than five-thousand Dr. Franken Furturs with one naked Rocky," Allen swore, remembering that bizarre, homosexual movie that Lavi had forced him to watch during their first – and only – sleepover together. The victimized Allen knew that perhaps his statement was a bit of a hyperbole, but he meant every last word of it – especially the part about the naked Rocky.

Kanda would never find out about what had occurred in that loo with that… that _creature_ – Allen would make sure of it.

Wait…

Allen nearly choked on his own saliva.

"Oh, shit! _Kanda!_" He shouted, unable to remain composed in this dreary situation. The memory of his lover's "two minute" offer had suddenly reappeared on his radar. Two minutes had, without a doubt, passed since Allen first set foot into the damnable bathroom.

Now Kanda had around a good five reasons to take his jackhammer to Allen's backside.

"Kanda!" Allen called as he ran by each aisle and glanced in. Where the heck could that man be?

Allen frantically noted that Kanda wasn't smashing apples in aisle one, and wasn't checking the cheese in aisle two for mold either. The boy bit his lip as aisle three, four, five, six, and seven all flew by. Still no Kanda.

Allen couldn't imagine why there was no trace of Kanda anywhere in his proximity. He was like a walking siren – with his Rapunzel-length hair, the slew of profanity that trailed in his wake, and his horrifically loud footsteps; it should have been easy to find the missing man… woman hybrid.

If Allen hadn't found him by now, it could only spell trouble, adultery, or abandonment.

What if a male prostitute had waltzed into the supermarket while Allen was in the bathroom, and captured Kanda's heart in between his dirty, money-scented fingers? Allen cringed at the mere thought. Sadly, however, it took him a few seconds longer than it should have to classify the idea as ridiculous and abandon it.

What if a speeding, out-of-control shopping cart had crushed Kanda, and he was something reminiscent to the pancakes that Allen had made for him yesterday? The boy thought about his easily inflamed partner looking like a flattened Loony Toon. The sadist would fit right into the cartoon world.

What if Kanda was trying to process too much information, his brain exploded, and now the walls were repainted with his gray matter? Allen would have laughed at that paranoid idea, if it, sadly, wasn't so plausible.

What if ten minutes had already passed, and the impatient hermaphrodite was currently camouflaging with the shelves of chocolate chip cookies, waiting for Allen to run by so he could tackle him and pull off his pants?

A new, more disturbing thought broke through the surface, causing Allen's heart to almost flat-line.

_What if the pervert had gotten to him?_

"Kanda!" Allen shrieked, envisioning the peeping tom rocking his hips against Kanda's, as he slid on the cheap, multicolored tile of aisle nine. Images of a supermarket molestation haunting his mind, Allen turned his attention to the end of aisle - despite how ridiculously scared he was to witness whatever horrors he would most likely discover down the halls of the cereal aisle.

Grocery stores weren't meant to house such danger!

Allen exhaled the breath that he had been holding captive inside his chest as he saw who was standing at the end of the aisle, a box of cereal in his hands.

"Does the Beansprout like Fruity Pebbles?" Kanda grumbled to himself, forcing Allen to strain to hear him from where he stood. The older lover's eyes scanned the back of the box, as he made a futile attempt to solve the polychromatic maze designed for the average first grader.

Allen's heart skipped a beat.

"Kanda!"

Kanda looked over at where Allen's voice had originated. Why did he sound so breathless? Why was he running over to him so fast? Why were his arms outstretched as if he were going to attempt to knock him over into submission? The jarred partner didn't even have time to move nor answer his riveting questions before Allen unmercifully wrapped him in his small arms. The box of Fruity Pebbles screamed for mercy as it slammed onto the equally colorful floor.

"What the fuck, Sprout?" Kanda snorted, attempting to shove the persistent Allen off from his grip around his waist. "You made me drop the damn fruity crap."

"We'll pick it up later," Allen hummed, wishing that Kanda would just shut up so he could savor this rare moment. "They make a complete breakfast, unlike some other fruity treat that lives in my house."

Kanda didn't pick up on Allen's implication as he continued to resist requiting the embrace.

"Do we even fucking need the Fruity Pebbles?" Kanda scoffed, trying his best to ignore the feeling of Allen's lips arching into a smile against his chest. "I mean, we're seeing the Rainbow-Rabbit tonight."

"Your humor is so wry," Allen murmured into Kanda's arms.

"I hate fruity things – especially Fruity Pebbles."

"I like Fruity Pebbles," Allen smiled as he nuzzled against his lover's chest. "But not as much as I like my fruity Kanda."

"Tch, go die," The obstinate partner snorted, though he couldn't help but to wrap his arms around Allen.

Kanda's ignorance to current events – such as his boyfriend spending a good three minutes extra in the bathroom – never ceased to amaze Allen.

"Speaking of 'dying'…" Kanda trailed off, his grip on Allen's shoulders suddenly tightening. Allen's eyes widened around a millisecond before his friend-behind-closed-bedroom-doors shoved him against the shelf of cereal. Allen winced as his face was pressed into a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch that smelled like a conglomeration between Cross's Axe whenever a woman came over, and what inhabited the toilet after Kanda had eaten too much soba.

"What took you so long in the bathroom, bitch?"

Crap. Maybe Kanda wasn't as oblivious as Allen thought he was.

"I had to go!" Was his muffled response. Allen turned his head to the side and breathed in fresh, wheat-scented air. "You're so violent, jeez!"

"I'll screw you right here if you don't tell me the truth," Kanda grunted, pushing Allen farther into the shelf. The white-haired boy allowed a groan to tear out of his throat. He didn't have time for Kanda's interrogation – which would obviously end with him writhing beneath him on the floor, with cereal boxes as the only witnesses.

"Did you know that a school teacher was arrested yesterday for having sexual relations with a fifteen-year-old boy?" Allen offered, attempting to change the subject. Kanda's slow mind usually topic-hopped faster than Lavi could make up excuses as to why he had Kanda's boxers in his drawer.

"What? Don't try to change the topic."

Damnit. Reading the newspaper had been in vain.

"I already told you! We're going to be late for Lavi and Lenalee's party if we don't go home soon!"

"You think I give a fuck about that?" Kanda rationalized, completely unaware as to how contradicting he was to his previous statement back at the house. He repositioned himself as he held Allen's hands in a death-grip. "Why do you always take advantage of my generosity to you?"

"You're kidding me. You're as generous as Cross is with transvestites," Allen objected. "Can you let me go now?"

"Only until you promise to worship me as a _God_," Allen could just see the smirk that was obviously adorning his lover's features.

Allen scoffed as pressed his nose against the cereal box once more. "Of what? Stupidity?"

"That's _it_."

"What? What's 'it'? What are you going to do?"

Allen's answer came in the form of a hand tugging at the elastic waistband of his pajama pants. "Jesus, Kanda! Not in Stop & Shop!"

"Fuck the engagement party, fuck the cakes, and more correctly –fuck _you._ Right here, right now; you're _mine_."

If he weren't about to be disturbed to his wit's end, Allen would have given Kanda a standing ovation for his newfound lingo.

_I should have drowned myself in the toilet while I had the chance,_ Allen lamented, flailing in order to loosen Kanda's grip on him. As he did so, Kanda shoved him against the shelf again; only to have king sized boxes of Cap'n Crunch, Count Chocula, and Lucky Charms unceremoniously Kamikaze-crash onto the hermaphrodite's hollow head.

"Fucking Hell!" Kanda swore, releasing Allen as he rubbed his sore noggin.

"If I'm 'yours,' then Pluto will be re-inducted as a planet," Allen affirmed, adding insult to injury as he kicked Kanda's shin. "Save your appetite until we get home, sheesh."

"Pluto's not one already?" Kanda asked through repressed groans.

"Have you been living in a rock?"

"I've been living up your ass, if you've forgotten."

"Well, you're not the only one who wants to, it seems," Allen muttered more to the floor than to Kanda, unwanted memories of the bathroom-stalker re-inhabiting his thoughts.

"What?" His headache forgotten, Kanda stood erect and glared at Allen. "Explain. _Now._"

Mentally cursing himself for bringing up the pervert in Kanda's presence, Allen deduced the best route to bullshitting his way out of this situation. "Unless it's possible to be molested by someone's eyes, I think you're the only rapist in this supermarket. Congrats."

"Someone eye-raped you in the bathroom?" Allen felt that Kanda's 'and it wasn't me?' was implied. "Christ, do you need a fucking rape whistle or shit? Tell me who looked at you – I'm in the mood to give some ass-wipe a bloody nose," Although he was asking, Kanda found that he already knew who the assailant who gawked at his lover had to be.

The cashier.

Oh, how Kanda couldn't _wait_ until that man's tan pelt was his Jaguar's new hood ornament. _No one_ defiled his Beansprout with a look – well, except for himself, of course.

As Allen was about to open his mouth to disclose the identity of the not-so-anonymous perpetrator with the perverted intentions, he noticed the malevolent glint of something _evil_ residing in the cart. His hands clenched into fists and he gritted his teeth.

How _dare_ Kanda do this to him after all he'd been through?

"What the Hell are you giving the death-glare to, Sprout?" Kanda questioned, when he noticed that Allen's ire was directed at a new object.

"Why did you get _chocolate_ ice cream?" Allen ignored Kanda's words, as he pointed towards the horror lying in the wagon. The pervert and his disturbing ways were forgotten with the appearance of a more formidable, frozen enemy.

"Because I _like_ chocolate."

"Well I _don't._"

Kanda scoffed. "I get to choose what we buy because you shove everything down your gaping pie hole before it can even fucking scream."

"_Kanda_," Allen contended, his love for the man draining faster than the fish he flushed down the toilet. "Chocolate ice cream has the most calories. Do you really want to become a walking gelatinous blob?"

"Like you're really one for counting calories, Sprout."

"Stop talking like your brain weighs more than a roll of toilet paper, and just get me the strawberry ice cream."

"Zip your lips and get over your damn pink ice cream. It's not coming."

"You're such an douche, Jeez."

"Me? A _douche_?" Kanda repeated, glaring down at Allen. "I think I've been rather fucking generous to you today. I mean, I could have easily locked you in the bedroom, stuffed Lenalee's panties in your mouth to make you shut the fuck up, and chained you to the bedpost like last time."

"One: When was this supposed '_last time'_ you're ranting about?" Allen huffed, wondering if he should dare to sleep in the same room as his lover after hearing this 'confession.' "Second: Where did you get Lenalee's panties from? And do we even own chains? If we do – that'll also be used as evidence when you're arrested." He quickly added. "Third: When you threaten to rape me around a billion times, it kind of loses its luster."

…Though he was actually terrified of having to call the police due to Kanda sticking his manhood into his unwilling backside's peephole.

"Fine. What about I call the veterinarian to put Timcanpy to sleep?" Kanda smirked, envisioning Allen digging a small hole in their backyard to accommodate the deceased dog. Kanda always hated Timcanpy.

"He's in the hospital because he swallowed your pill – need I remind you?" Allen snapped. How he'd love to dump Kanda's mutilated corpse at a nuclear plant. No one messed around with his Tim. "Besides, then 'animal abuse' will be added to your charges."

"What fucking charges?"

"Hmm, let's see here: multiple accounts of rape, abuse, ignorance, and more that I feel guilty to mention in public," Allen listed his partner's woes on his fingers. "With a list of crimes this long, you'll get a one-way trip to Alcatraz! I hope you find a nice master when you're his prison bitch!"

"The only prison bitch I see here is _you_, Beansprout," Kanda shot back with an instantaneous rebuttal. He was truly on a roll today.

"If you just get me the strawberry, no one gets hurt - or raped," He hastily annexed the last two words for dramatic effect, envisioning Kanda violated in jail by his roommate's hand.

"No one will get raped tonight but you, Screamer."

"I bet you have a collection of the victim's rectums that you've robbed," Allen muttered, bending over to pick up the fallen boxes of Cap'n Crunch and Lucky Charms.

Allen recoiled as he felt strong, overly toned arms wrap around his small waist, and pull him against Kanda's back. The satyr pressed his smooth lips against the top of his ear, his breath warming it. Allen shivered with something that he couldn't quite classify as pleasure or fear to lose his mobility. Kanda drew Allen closer to him, as he whispered.

"You're my first."

Swiftly stamping on Kanda's foot, Allen managed to loosen the man's hold. "You're a freaking psycho, you know that?"

"The way you were bending over like that - you were asking for it," The transvestite shot back, gripping his throbbing foot. "Jesus! Are you wearing Goddamn cleats?"

"Was this the final aisle that we needed?"

"Don't fucking ignore my last question!"

"Well, do we even need the Fruity Pebbles? As you've stated before, 'O 'Generous' One, we _are_ seeing Lavi tonight. He'll provide us without enough fruity gayness for a month," Allen admitted, although he rather liked the taste of artificially flavored fruit over Lavi's all-too-natural one.

"Then don't fucking buy them. We're here to shop for the baking mixes, anyway."

"But we've already passed the baking aisle, and you've bought the right mixes. Somehow."

"Then let's get the heck out of this shithole."

"Let's blow this popsicle stand!" Allen grinned, flashing Kanda two thumbs up.

"Say that one more time, and I'll rape you," Kanda retorted, leaning against the cart with the brimming packages.

"Didn't you hear what I said before about the whole 'when you repeat things they tend to lose their value' thing?" Allen groaned; growing disappointed with his lover's lack of the creative, colorful insults that he had fallen for him over. "Go back to preschool – you'll learn some good listen skills there."

"Tch, when I was in preschool you weren't even a fucking fetus yet."

"I think that living inside my mother's womb was preferable to living with you," Allen remarked, shrugging his shoulders.

"Go to Hell."

"I'm living with you, aren't I?" Allen smirked.

"You _really_ want me to rape you, don't you?"

"Not really," Allen asserted, tossing a package of chocolate chips into the cart. The skyscraper of food threatened to tip over. Abruptly, the boy jumped behind the handle of said cart, and slammed it into his lover's backside for around the third time that day. "I think _I'll_ take the initiative this time, _Fag_anda."

"You fucking-!"

The cart made collided with his rump again, sending him flying forward and almost losing his balance.

"-Beansprout!"

While Kanda rubbed his sore rear, Allen's eyes briefly scanned over the aisle signs. They didn't need cups in aisle ten; they had a surplus of shampoo in the house due to Kanda's unreasonably long hair, and Allen didn't need to shave yet, so aisle eleven was undesirable.

Every other aisle may have been packed with food that Allen would just love to send on a journey to his stomach, but he had already forgotten how much time he'd spent in the store, and God knew that Kanda _definitely_ must have remembered…

It looked as though Lavi's tricks to resetting a watch didn't come in handy.

"Are we done? I want to get home so we can get this damn engagement party shit over with."

Holy shit. Kanda had forgotten about the time limit.

_I always seem to forget just how much of an unadulterated _idiot_ Kanda is,_ Allen thought. He'd forever wonder why he had chosen such a nitwit to be his lover.

"Yeah, we're done."

"Good," The man's sly smile was too apparent to conceal. "Because I really think that I can't wait an entire night to rape you."

"Kanda! Kanda! Guess what?" Allen sang, his hands clenching around the cart's handle.

"What the fu-?"

"-Shut up," The younger lover sang, ramming the cart against Kanda's caboose.

"I will skin you alive," Kanda threatened as he pretended to reach into his back pocket to grab Mugen, when he was legitimately placing his hands back there to rub his aching rear-end.

Allen was legitimately surprised that his slower-than-growing-grass lover knew such advanced terminology. He smiled to himself. Kanda's glorious insults were back.

"I see someone stupid has been reading the dictionary lately – I'm impressed."

"More like burning them."

"You're anything but charming."

"Tch, coming from the walking plant."

"Shut your mouth and scoot your boot," Allen replied, using the cart's dictating mass to push Kanda in the direction of the checkout lines.

As Allen walked and Kanda was shoved – cursing all the while, the younger of the duo mentally checked off all of the ingredients to bake the new-and-improved cakes.

Crumb cake mix and Angel food mix? Allen still shuddered at the horrendous memories of the cinnamon-flavored assassin that attempted to kill him earlier that day. _Check._

Baking trays? _Check._

Chocolate chips? Allen inspected said chips to ascertain the fact that they were indeed _milk_ chocolate and not _dark_ chocolate. Lavi hated dark chocolate. _Check._

Random other crap that they haphazardly tossed into the cart without looking at twice? _Double check._

Allen beamed. "We got everything on the list, Kanda."

"What fucking list?" The irritated man asked; debating whether or not his plans on waiting until after the party to rape his lover should be changed.

Allen couldn't help himself – the offer was too great to pass up. "The one up your butt."

Before Kanda could reply with a new threat, a new, more irritating voice piped up.

"Welcome to register three!"

Both Allen and Kanda stared at where the new voice had originated.

The blonde cashier with the questionable gender waved at them, his or her smile wider than a traveling football field fused with a sixteen-wheel truck. He was laughing like a giddy idiot who recently disclosed that markers artificially made to smell like strawberries could be used as inhalants.

"_Hee!_ My name's Jasdero, but you can call me Jassy. Or Dero – that's what my twinster calls me, you know? Devito's the best! But, you can call me whatever you see fit. 'Kay?"

Allen willed the laughter bubbling inside his throat to dissolve by staring at the box of orange popsicles in the cart. His lover, however, didn't have the same restraint.

"What the fuck?"

"Clean out that dirty mouth with Orbit!" The blonde grinned as he thrust a package of Sweet Mint gum into the boiling face of the opposing hermaphrodite.

Kanda was stunned into speechlessness. All of the profanity he was planning on spewing to this "Jasdero" was flushed down the drain of his mind, and into his fists. His hands clenched.

"You know, you should use some of that gum," Allen smirked before popping a powdered stick of gum into his mouth. "God knows you need it."

Jasdero beamed as if he had earned a place on Mount Olympus, unbeknownst to him that Kanda was already pulling out a chainsaw to his soapbox.

"You gaybos seem to have a big load there, _hee!_" Jasdero grinned, pointing a manicured nail to the cart. As if on cue, a package of frozen French fries toppled off of the Empire State Building of the cart, and collapsed to the ground.

"Beauty killed the Beast," Allen shrugged. Kands snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Shall Dero begin the process of checking the items?" The cashier squeaked, waving the scanner in Kanda's face. Allen didn't know what angered him more: The fact that "Dero" had used third person to refer to himself, or that they were wasting precious time attempting to communicate with a human from the Paleolithic era.

"Yeah, well, we're kind of in a rush," Allen admitted, pushing the cart slightly closer to Jasdero. "And we're not gay."

Both Jasdero and Kanda laughed at that.

"_Hee!_ Don't lie to Dero! I know you like the man-parts!" The blonde giggled, blatantly ignoring the cart chopped full of food that he needed to scan juxtaposed to him or her as they text-messaged.

Before Allen could even open his mouth to object to Jasdero's ideas on his sexuality, the blonde's cell phone screeched. As the confused boy checked his ears in case of blood, Jasdero giddily opened his phone. The blonde was leaning against the counter, giggling as it read the message.

Allen watched as a vein in Kanda's neck popped. "What the fu-?"

-Allen nudged Kanda and shot him a "curse-and-I'm-sleeping-in-the-basement-again" look.

"_What_ does the message say?" Kanda corrected himself, stamping down on Allen's foot as he spoke.

"Well," A chortle interrupted his sentence. "Devi says that you guys are gayer than Uncle Tyki with a box of rainbow pipe cleaners!" Jasdero managed to wheeze in-between giggles.

"Because they're pliable?" Allen offered, wondering why he was provoking the unseen brother to insult them more. He didn't even want to know who 'Uncle Tyki' was at this point – he had met enough deranged people tonight to fill up an entire mental hospital.

The answer to Allen's question came in the form of the cell phone screaming bloody murder again – where the term _murder_ was imminent to occur unless Kanda covered his ears.

"Hmm… Devi says 'Bingo!' _Hee!_" Jasdero sang, repositioning himself to lean against the cart. He resumed text-messaging 'Devi' as he ignored his job. Kanda was _so_ going to send Allen online to Stop & Shop's website and file a complaint.

"Where the Hel-"

-Allen glared at Kanda, his elbow poised in front of his stomach.

Sighing, Kanda resumed. "Where the _Heck_ is your brother anyway?"

"Devi's on break," Jasdero grinned without looking up from his cell phone's screen.

"But where _is_ he?"

"Oh! Devi's in the security room! Devi is watching us through the security tapes - so don't try anything funny!" The brainless cashier responded whimsically. Allen swore he could see the rage emanating off of Kanda. It was a good thing that Jasdero had mentioned that Devi would be watching his every move. Tough luck.

"So that bas- _baby_ is watching and hearing us?"

"Nice save," Allen whispered to Kanda, his arm finally sinking back to his side, releasing Kanda's chest from being its hostage.

"You bet'cha!" Jasdero's smile was so wide and brilliant that it nearly blinded Allen. While his lover was momentarily sightless, Kanda scanned the cashier's chest for any sign of a bust.

What _was_ this person?

"Like a guardian angel?" Allen asked after his sight was restored, sarcasm dripping from his words.

"Like a guardian _Devi_, hee!"

Suddenly, having his anus penetrated by Kanda's oversized and overused manhood was preferable to attempting to converse with this hunter-gatherer. It was as if Jasdero had walked straight out of a Geico commercial.

"Dero brings chicken for Devi sometimes in the security room, and we make fun of the customers together. Oh! We also use fake IDs and get some beer!"

Allen nervously laughed, preparing himself to lunge for Jasdero's cell phone and dial a counselor.

"Before you open your mouth and spew shit everywhere again," Kanda snarled, glaring at Jasdero before the nuisance could part his lips to literally 'spew shit' again. "Fucking tell me this: What do you have under your pants?"

Jasdero's massive smile twisted into a frown. "Wait… what?"

"You heard me," Kanda scoffed, his eyes already wandering to the seat of the blonde's pants. "Do your lower regions house sperm?"

"He's asking if you're a boy or a girl," Allen quickly explained, shooting Kanda a glare that was more venomous than the cyanide that he knew his partner longed to poison him with. "Which is so rude, judging by the fact that you're a girl. He's just a prick who can't control his mouth. Sorry."

There was a loud crackling noise as someone spoke over the intercom.

"He's a _dude_, assholes."

The static dissipated as the boy on the intercom hung up. Jasdero snapped his phone shut. "Thank you, Devi," The androgynous cashier mumbled, before returning to text-message his 'Guardian Devi,' who was watching and defending him from security tape Heaven.

Allen gripped the handle of the cart in order to stop himself from fainting. Kanda blinked.

"I fucking knew you had a penis."

"Kanda! Stop being vulgar!" Allen quickly turned his attention back to the offended cashier. "Look – I'm so sorry. I meant to say 'boy,' it just came out as-"

"-Save it," Jasdero scorned, tossing his oversized yellow mane over his suddenly broader shoulders. It seemed to Allen as if the gi—boy's entire personality, demeanor, and voice changed. "Just start unloading your crap," All of a sudden, his eyes widened, and his mouth hung open. "—Wait, _what_?"

"What?" Allen cocked his head.

Jasdero was looking at something over Allen, and did not ear him speak. "Wait – I don't know what you're saying, Ty—just say it out loud! You know I can't read lips, _hee!_" The blonde pouted, apparently talking to a figment of his imagination named 'Ty.'

Allen shuddered.

Why did they keep getting the psychos today?

"Are you a fucking schizo?" Kanda glared, worrying for his safety. The Beansprout's too.

"I can't read lips! Just say what you want to say aloud, jeez!" Jasdero was bouncing on the soles of his feet now; trying to see whatever was over the mountain of Kanda's head.

A feeling of dread overtook Allen. The alarm that was racing throughout him was spreading faster than the poison ivy epidemic that had jumped from Kanda to Allen in the time frame of thirty minutes last summer.

He wasn't as mentally impaired as his blunt-knifed partner to think that Jasdero had snorted some hallucinogenic No. This was something else. Something _worse_.

His dread slowly rising to a zenith, Allen gulped. Whoever was attempting to communicate to Jasdero obviously didn't want Kanda and Allen to hear his words. But who else was in the supermarket besides the three of them?

Suddenly, he knew.

Turning around slowly, Allen faced what the semi-demented cashier was trying to see over the unisexual man's hair. His eyes trailed to the fifth register, where a familiar man was running his tanned finger over his neck, signifying how he was going to murder Jasdero.

_The pervert._

Allen's pupils dilated as he felt the cakes, last night's dinner, the pizza he binged on, and even his chewable vitamins rise up from the pit of his stomach and demand exit while climbing up his esophagus. He swallowed bile.

"Oh! You want me to close? Why didn't you say so? _Hee!_" Jasdero beamed, recognition passing over his features. He produced a sign from seemingly thin air and placed it onto the register. "Sorry Al and Sissy-Man, this register is C-L-O-S-E-D."

Kanda blinked. A barely-audible snicker was heard from the region near register five. Jasdero's cell phone screamed again.

"That spells 'closed,' just in case you're wondering," Jasdero giggled before resuming to text. "Devi says that you," He pointed to Kanda, "Should lay off drugging little Allie here with aphrodisiacs – whatever that is! He says that it shows, _hee!_"

"Wait…" Allen began, skepticism and anxiety trickling from his tone and staining his words. "How do you know my name?"

"This register's closed, Allie! Go bother Tyki!" The blonde brushed him off by picking up the 'Sorry, I'm Closed' sign and shoving it into Allen's face. "Can't you read?"

Feeling the urge to dislocate Jasdero's shoulder, Allen took his aggression out on the cart's handle.

"Devi says that you're throwing a bitch-fit because you got butt-fucked again last night," Jasdero laughed, leaning over the counter and flicking Allen's forehead as he spoke.

"Well, Allen says that either you two are incestuous, or he's going to take this cart and show you what it's _really_ like to be 'butt-fucked'." Allen grimaced, glaring daggers into Jasdero's eyes. They were poison-tipped, illegally sharp daggers, mind you.

"What? I didn't hear you," Jasdero cocked his head, and Allen wasn't too sure if he were lying or he legitimately hadn't heard his threat.

"Forget it."

Whether or not Jasdero heard him, chances were that Devi had. That meant that insulting text-messages or lightning bolts shooting from the sky from the Guradian Angel's hand would soon ensue.

Jasdero's cell phone shrieking only sealed the deal.

"Come on, Kanda!" Allen beamed, stepping away from Jasdero as he read the text message. "Let's go to register fi—wait, Kanda?" The man was gone. Again.

Either Kanda had evaporated into water vapor and had his head more so in the clouds than usual, or he had ran away in the time fame of around five seconds. Choosing the latter, Allen scanned the area around him for where his lover may have run off. He didn't have the search long before he heard the familiar sound of arguing originating from none other than register five.

It was going to be a long evening.

Allen sighed, turning the cart's wheels in the direction of where the two rapists were disputing.

"I knew that fate would bring us together," The bathroom-stalker smirked. Allen was legitimately surprised when the cashier didn't get down on his knees, take his hand in his mocha one, and press his lips to it.

"Fate? What the fuck?" Kanda snorted. "You fucking told the freak show to close his register. How is that fate, Sprout-phile?"

The cashier narrowed his amber eyes to such a degree that even the most microscopic of eukaryotes couldn't fit inside of it.

Allen began to fear for his belligerent lover's life as the cashier slammed a package of mini tacos onto the conveyer belt with such intensity that it dented. Allen could easily imagine that same sickening 'crack' as Kanda's head slamming into concrete. He shuddered.

"Can't you read?" The man smiled, pointing to his nametag as his eyebrow twitched.

"Hello-my-name-is: Mikk," Kanda read, his fingers shaking with anxiety as he longed to use them to strangle this 'Mikk.'

"Precisely."

"Wait a second," Allen had to interject here. "Your parents honestly named you '_Mikk_'?"

His ire instantly morphing into that of a ridiculously large smile, "Mikk" turned to Allen. "Actually, my given name is 'Tyki,' but if you like my last name so much, feel free to adopt it," He smirked, his hand purposely brushing Allen's as he reached into the cart for the package of apples.

"You _don't_ want to flirt with my Beansprout," Kanda warned, wrapping his twitching fingers around the collar of his coat and yanking Allen backwards.

"I'm not 'yours'," Said Beansprout scoffed, elbowing Kanda in the stomach.

"Well you're certainly not Mikk's."

"I never said I was!"

Tyki smiled as he watched the lovers quarrel. He didn't even need to rile them up this time.

"Hmm, 'Allen Kanda' or 'Allen Mikk'," The sickeningly attractive cashier mused as he relentlessly smashed the apples into the conveyer belt. "Which sounds better to you, boy?"

Gritting his teeth while simultaneously wondering how everyone knew his name, Allen couldn't help but to notice the black splotches on the fruit as Tyki smashed them.

"You're bruising the apples!" Allen accused.

"Oh? Am I?" Tyki questioned as he slammed yet another package of fruit down.

"You're such a fucker, Jesus Christ."

Turning to the man who mouthed his unwanted opinion, Tyki spoke. "Why don't you go get a new bag of fruit then?"

Kanda scoffed. "No way in _Hell_, dumbass."

Tyki cocked his head as a bag of pears met the same violent end as their distant cousins.

"Sprout, use those little legs of yours and go get some more apples," Kanda demanded, already pushing his partner in the direction of the fruit area.

"Why me? You're closer!"

Grabbing a fistful of the sweater Allen stole from his closet in his hands, Kanda practically lifted his lover off of the ground as he glared into his eyes. "Go. Back. _Now._"

Tyki shook his head as if he were a marital counselor instead of an underpaid pervert. "Is that really the way you treat such a prize, Kanda?"

"Don't fucking call me tha-"

"-You should be reveling in your luck that someone such as Allen chose you to be his..." Tyki stumbled over his words, wondering the right way to classify the scrumptious boy and his love-rival's relationship. "_'Mate._' Honestly. I mean; you'd make him perform strenuous labor for your own selfish purposes? I can only _imagine _what you force the poor boy to do in bed."

"Screw you!" Kanda hollered, earning a concerned glance from the texting Jasdero, and a jab to the navel region from Allen. "My God! I'll fucking get them!"

Tyki winked at Allen.

"If I come back here and you're on top of him, I swear…"

"No, no, I'm not like you," The cashier instigated, looking narcissistic as ever while flipping his hair. "Run along now."

As Kanda literally sprinted to the fruit section, Tyki turned his sights onto the object of his utmost desire, his tongue gliding over his lips. Allen gulped, trying to recall all of the martial arts lessons his partner had tried to teach him. If he could shut a freezer door with a kick, he could close Tyki's legs with it.

He hoped.

"So…" Tyki purred as he fondled a package of corn. "You like corn _on the cob_?" He emphasized on the word 'cob.'

"Not the kind of 'corn on the cob' you're referring to, Tyki," Allen scoffed; proud of himself for catching onto all the innuendos he probably would have missed if he hadn't moved in with Kanda.

A slow grin crossed Tyki's face. Allen wasn't as inept as he initially anticipated. He slowly slid a bag of grapes through the scanner. "My name has a special ring to it whenever you say it, pet."

"Really? So does mine when Kanda says it."

"You're sassier than you look, kid."

"You're dirtier than you look," Allen countered. "Don't think I don't know why you're scanning the items so slowly."

Tyki snarled. This Allen kid was smarter than he expected as well. "Are you baking something?"

"I'm in culinary school," the words had rolled off of his tongue before he could usher them back into his mouth. _Crap, now he can stalk me._

"Oh?" Tyki grinned; his interest peaked. "Do you bake cakes?"

Unwanted memories flooding his mind and forcing all good thought to leak through his ears, Allen grimaced. "Unfortunately."

"Pardon?"

"I said I do."

"I _love_ creamy cakes," Tyki's tongue slid over his lips once more, cluing Allen in that it wasn't cakes with a creamy consistency that he was imagining licking.

"I'm sure you do."

Now it was Tyki's turn to scowl. "You're a tough nut to crack."

"What? Because I'm not giving you a lap-dance on the conveyer belt?"

The cashier raised an eyebrow, his chocolate coils tumbling over his intoxicating eyes as he leaned over the belt between them. "Are those reserved for Kanda?" He sneered, his lustful expression contorting into one reminiscent of a goldfish vacuuming fish flakes. Allen winced as the box of pasta burst open due to how hard Tyki slammed it down.

"Can you stop sexually harassing me?" He paused. "_Again_."

"Harassing you?" The man repeated, eyeing Allen as he attempted to clean pick up the scattered pieces of dried pasta on from the floor. "I think this is anything but, _mi amor_."

Their hands "accidently" touched as they both simultaneously reached for the same noodle. Allen felt chills recede down his spine.

"Kanda!" Allen called for his lover as Tyki refused to remove his hand. Rolling his eyes, the tanned man lifted himself up and reached a hand out for Allen to help him back onto his feet.

"Need a hand?"

"I'd rather eat glue," Allen stated matter-of-factly, proud of himself for thinking of the perfect rebuttal on the spot.

A sly grin passed over Tyki's face as he wrapped his hand around Allen's wrist, pulling him to his feet. "That could be arranged," He whispered, seduction and lust oozing from his words.

"Wait, wait! I didn't mean that!" Allen stated, his face looking as if something had been barbecued on it as he realized what alternative meaning 'glue' could hold. "And let go of my-"

"-Hey, Fuck-face!" For once, Allen was happy to have the sound of his Kanda's voice and loud footsteps put a newspaper to the web of awkwardness hanging between him and another person. "Get your hands off of my Sprout."

"You both have such vulgar thoughts," Tyki replied evenly as his hand returned to his side. He wiped the dirt on his palms onto his black Stop & Shop apron. "I was simply helping him up."

"Yeah, and copping a feel while you're at it, Minimum Wage."

As Kanda stepped closer and closer to register five, the laughter that Jasdero was trying to muffle behind his cell phone grew louder and Allen's smile grew. Jealousy dictating his movements, Tyki smacked the carton of eggs onto the belt. A revolting, resounding crack echoed off of the walls, as a yellow liquid dribbled down the side of the carton and pooled underneath the cardboard.

"Oops," He shrugged as Allen wheeled, a look of pure terror adorning his cute face. Tyki had to smile at that. After he was done grinning at the desirable boy with such intensity that it forced him to check to see if his pants weren't missing, Tyki turned to Kanda. "While you're nearby, can you replace the eggs?"

"No fucking way you piece of-"

"-Don't you have somewhere you need to be?" He grinned, knowing he hit the jackpot. The prize was everything that he had expected it to be, as his self-proclaimed love-rival's face contorted with rage. "No, Kanda. Despite how irresistible your 'Beansprout' is, I'm no stalker. You were loud enough with your threatening to _violate_ him that I couldn't help but to overhear about the celebration."

Kanda almost dropped the bundle of apples in his arms and Allen felt faint. Was the man talking about Lenalee and Lavi's engagement party, or the "celebration" Kanda would force Allen to host in their bedroom?

"Now then, if you don't want to be late to this 'engagement party', you might want to get some eggs," Tyki flashed a flawless grin. Kanda and Allen simultaneously exhaled.

"Way to tell 'em, Uncle Tyki!" Jasdero cheered, pumping his fists into the air from register three.

"I'm going to fuck you up, Mikk," Kanda swore, jamming his hands into his pockets in order to resists the urge to use them to murder Tyki.

"Before or after you get those eggs? Aisle six, by the way. They're right near the over-the-counter male enhancers that God knows you drug Allen with before bedding him," Tyki smiled, indicating to said aisle. Of course, the eggs weren't located anywhere near that aisle – he just needed a diversion for Kanda for these next few minutes.

Allen didn't know whether to laugh, tear our Tyki's hair, or never eat any of the dinners that Kanda cooked up for him again.

Fury trailing in his wake, Kanda took Tyki's wrong advice, scampering down the drug aisle instead of heading towards the refrigerated area where the eggs were legitimately located.

Scoffing, Tyki returned his attention to the prize at hand. "Honestly, why him?"

"Excuse me, Mikk, but I think you should be scanning the items rather than molesting me with words."

"What happened to my first name?"

Allen simply smiled and pressed the box of crumb cake mix into Tyki's hand. "Keep packing."

Allen then snatched the Best Buy catalogue from its perch beside Tyki and delved into it. Although pretending to absorb the information regarding the iMac computers, iPods, and plasma screen televisions, his eyes never legitimately left the duct tape that was precariously placed beside the charming-yet-creepy cashier. Allen shuddered as he wondered for what erotic purposes the tape was used - or would _be_ used for.

"The tape is for sealing open packages," Tyki commented, noticing Allen's eyes locked onto said tape in-between scanning fish sticks and Maruchan noodles.

"It's like you stole the words right out of my mouth," Allen asserted before returning to eyeing the expensive-looking digital camera in the catalogue. That would come in handy for blackmailing Kanda.

"Oh? Did I?" Tyki purred, pushing aside boxes of Kid Cuisine to reach Allen. "Did I capture them from you, Allen?"

Smacking the Best Buy magazine against Tyki's mop of curls, Allen scoffed. "Who bailed you out of jail, Mikk?"

Choosing to ignore his personal pornography model's disdainful words, the cashier returned his attention back to the endless amount of food in the cart. "I'm sure you've been a bailsman for that ingrate after he was arrested for rape," He muttered, hastily sliding a box of macaroni and cheese down the conveyer belt.

"Kanda's not a rapist," Allen replied, wondering if he were telling the truth or not.

"Would you care to repeat that with your hand on a bible?"

"You're seriously mental, you know that?"

Tyki grinned, returning to his slow pace of scanning the food at one-box-per-hour. "Being infatuated and psychotic are on two opposing ends of the spectra."

"Not when it's _you_ we're talking about, Mikk."

"Harsh," The man whispered, sounding pained.

"Don't expect me to kiss your verbal wounds clean," Allen belittled, tossing stray white hairs from his eyes while returning his attention back to the desirable camera. If he could just convince Kanda that he hadn't already wasted the five Best Buy coupons for twenty percent off each last week when he purchased Lavi and Lenalee's wedding gift, the camera would be his.

"Would you mind using your tongue to numb my _physical_ pain, then?" Tyki cracked a smirk so wide and disturbing, that Allen was almost surprised when the man didn't yank his pants below his knees, and demand him to kiss where it 'hurt.'

Allen wondered if he could get away with stuffing a package of Goldfish down Tyki's throat without Jasdero using his handy-dandy cell phone to phone the police.

"You know I'm nineteen, right?" Allen stated, almost certain this piece of unnecessary information would end Tyki's uncanny obsession with getting into his polar bear-ridden pants.

Cocking his head slightly to the left, Tyki blinked. "And I'm twenty-eight."

Holy shit! This man just didn't get it!

"You're nine years older than me, Mikk," Allen spoke in a tone comparable to one of a person attempting to discuss Pascal's Triangle with a first grader.

"The more the merrier," Tyki winked. Allen smashed his head against the tabloid shelf five times.

"Can you _please_ do your job faster?" Allen whined, rubbing his sore forehead as he felt a headache ensue. He almost wished that he hadn't eaten the cakes so he would have spared himself from meeting Tyki. Almost. "You're seriously creeping me out."

"I thought we were having a rather pleasant conversation."

"Not when you're acting like you have X-Ray vision."

For the next half-a-minute, Tyki managed to run items through the scanner without opening his mouth once to make a risqué comment. Allen stared at the slowly rising price being projected on the screen. Kanda was _so_ going to rape him tonight.

Speaking of Kanda…

"Hey, Sprout!"

At the sound of Kanda's unmistakable voice, Allen snapped back into reality - away from his thoughts of bribing his lover to buy him the camera from the catalogue. Kanda was nearing them with surprising speed. In his arms, he was carrying a bundle of apples, pears, and a fresh carton of eggs. He scoffed as Allen waved.

"Oh joy," Tyki muttered, his grip around the gallon of milk tightening. "Here comes Miss Menstrual."

"I got the fucking eggs," Kanda growled, shoving Allen aside as he handed the carton to Tyki. "And _don't _smash them this time, Mikk-Nugget."

Tyki daintily took the box of eggs from Kanda, wincing as he did so." I'll commend you on your creativity for the nickname," The cashier's smile twitched as he reached for the Purell keychain on his belt. Kanda snarled. "But I cannot say the same for your hygiene."

"I bet you stuck your paws down your pants when you were talking to the Sprout, so don't you fucking preach to me on keeping _my_ hands clean."

"Um, guys, settle down," Allen sighed, wondering if he could 'convince' Tyki to scan the items faster if he held Mugen to his throat.

"'_Settle down, guys_'," Kanda immaturely mimicked in a high-pitched voice.

"Moron," Allen muttered under his breath, earning a jab to the chest from his inflamed partner.

Tyki grimaced as he watched Kanda elbow Allen. "Want some Purell? You must feel dirty after being touched by him," He held out said container of hand sanitizer to Allen.

"Go burn in Hell," Kanda scowled. "And get your fucking hands away from my Beansprout."

"Why? Are you the only one permitted to touch him?"

"Can you just fucking shut the fuck up and do your damn job?"

"Not until you can recall those seemingly long-forgotten Kindergarten rules of 'keep your hands to yourself' and _keep your vile hands to yourself._"

"I swear to fucking God, if there weren't security cameras here…"

"I know. What a shame, no?"

Despite how obvious the prospect of a rather-gory fight breaking out between Tyki and Kanda right there in register five seemed; Allen was more distressed as he watched his idiotic partner glance at the clock hanging over the gumball machine. A grin formed through his otherwise dangerous facial expression as he noted where the clock's hands laid. Allen closed his eyes, gulped, and willed to God that Kanda was smiling due to the bizarre color of the clock instead of the time.

He had, without-a-doubt, passed his ten minute time limit.

_There is no God,_ Allen thought, cringing as his imagination ran off of the assigned school track, into the forbidden woods, and proceeded to get brutally anally raped by a known assailant.

Unwanted and unnecessary images of Kanda using Tyki's duct tape to entrap him, muffling his screams with the baggie of apples, and lathering him with the yolk from the eggs that the cashier oh-so-graciously cracked, Allen felt the urge to melt into a puddle all over again. _There is no Heaven or Hell – only Kanda. Kanda and his… thing._

As Tyki watched Allen glance at the clock fifty times per second, he found that his older brother's approval of his mate seemed less and less important. While Kanda spat insults that didn't register in his mind, Tyki found himself hating the man not just for stealing what was rightfully his before he knew he existed, but also for being a motor mouth running on an endless amount of fuel.

"Are you even listening to me, Mikk-dick?"

No. The answer to Kanda's question was obvious judging by how Tyki's eyes were directed at the belligerent man's lover, and how white his knuckles were turning as he gripped the scanner tighter and tighter every time Allen pouted.

Tyki couldn't help but to smirk as he watched Allen's face pale. The poor boy must have finally discovered just how _inferior_ Kanda was to him. Perhaps Allen finally realized just how drop-dead-gorgeous Tyki was, and how Kanda was nothing more than a burlap sack of manure in comparison.

Without a doubt, the boy was falling for him. Tyki just had to get that Kanda-nuisance out of the way so he could finalize the plans to move to the United Kingdom with Allen to get a civil partnership, and then consummate the "marriage."

If Tyki knew avaricious, domineering customers (which, he did), then he knew the one thing that would get Kanda away once and for all: Sales - low-priced, ludicrous sales. The desperate cashier grinned at the mere thought.

As Tyki lifted up a carton of chocolate ice cream from the cart only to watch Allen's face fall, he knew just what had to be done.

He knew what he had to do to rid himself of Kanda. _Forever._

"Oh," Tyki feigned disappointment, biting his lower lip as he lifted the artery clogging, sugared dessert from the cart. "Why did you get chocolate?"

His almost-nonexistent patience dying a horrible, fiery death under the leather boot of his irritation, Kanda swore he heard something snap as his self-acclaimed love-rival spoke.

"What? Should I be afraid to buy the fucking chocolate ice cream because the Sprout will be pretending to lick your skin while he's devouring it?"

Allen grimaced. Kanda was definitely at his limit.

"Well… we're having a sale on all ice cream besides chocolate," Tyki had to give himself props; he was a better actor than he thought.

Kanda kicked the side of the helpless cart to express his anger.

Strike that, Kanda was past his limit. Around five kilometers past.

"See? I _knew_ we should have gotten the strawberry ice cream," Allen stated, crossing his arms over his chest. It didn't matter whether he believed Tyki's proposal or not; all that mattered was keeping Kanda's eyes off of the demonic clock, and his attention focused on something more stirring than the thought of having Allen be his bitch for an entire week. The distraction happened to be in the form of an illegally attractive man with a taste for boys nine years younger than himself. Allen silently thanked the Gods (who he still was torn over believing in or not) for the existence of Tyki Mikk.

"Beansprout. I'm going to fuck you up if you don't shut up right now," Kanda snarled, cracking his knuckles in order to prove his "I'm-going-to-fuck-you-up" threat.

"Just saying," Allen shrugged, wondering why he was provoking Kanda to forcibly shove himself into his excretory hole more violently than he was already planning.

"Well, your voice makes me want to strangle you, so shut up."

"Hmm, do I sense future a future abusive lover in the making?" Tyki hummed, his nails rapping against the top of the ice cream carton.

"As for you," Kanda sneered, snapping his head to face the mobile Adonis statue. "Why is it that the sale is not on chocolate?"

"Well, here's a simple answer to a simple question: Chocolate is the lowest on the food chain," Tyki smiled; his nails smacking against the box with such unnecessary high velocity and strength, that Allen expected the carton to look reminiscent to Swiss cheese, and for a fountain of chocolate ice cream to spurt out of said holes like a sprinkler.

"What the _fuck?"_

Even Allen had to admit: Tyki's words made no sense. Either it was a concept they were both seriously incapable of grasping, or the perverted cashier's logic was as flawed as his morals. Allen had to choose the latter.

"Most people eat chocolate, yes?" Tyki's faux-smile was seeming more and more pained and forced with every second that he was wasting talking to Kanda; when he could have been using that same irresistible expression to convince Allen into hopping onto his motorcycle; wrapping his arms around his waist; and drive off to California to be bound to him in Holy, immoral matrimony.

"So what?"

Tyki may have been an expert on bullshitting his way through life, but Kanda's incessant nagging, refusing to simply walk away so he could seduce his "Beansprout" into submission, and existence in general were driving him over the edge. Taking a deep breath, Tyki continued to spout whatever ridiculous explanation for his madness popped into his mind first.

"So, my dear Kanda, this means that since _everyone_ gets cellulite off of said chocolate, everyone buys it, correct?"

Allen muffled his giggles by ducking his mouth under the collar of the sweatshirt - which he stole from Kanda's wardrobe.

The corners of Kanda's lips twitched. His left eyebrow soon followed suit. "Get to the point."

"Since everyone wastes their money buying the chocolate flavored ice cream, we have a surplus of the other, abandoned flavors. Are you following?"

"Yes!" Allen watched as the Kanda volcano exploded, molten lava oozing from his oral cavity. "Yes, I'm fucking following – so go on!"

This had to be the most fun Tyki had in a good two months – well, second to molesting Allen with his pupils in the bathroom. "Since we have such a ridiculous amount of vanilla, Neapolitan, and _strawberry-_" (He was sure to stress the last ice cream flavor for Allen's sake) "-Ice cream in stock, we decided to put them on sale, so they can easily be sold. Get it?"

"By 'we,' what are you talking about?" Kanda asked incredulously. Tyki refrained from dunking the irritating man's head into the chocolate ice cream, and drowning him beneath its sugary depths.

"Don't you mean 'who' – as in, 'who are you referring to when you say _we_'?" Allen corrected, his smile wider than the pool that Tyki would tell him would be in their backyard when he kidna—offered him to move in with him.

"I mean shut-the-fuck-up-before-I-murder-you," Kanda snapped, though his eyes never left Tyki's as he berated his lover.

"Raping and murdering someone as delectable as Allen will not only get you a lifetime sentence behind bars, but will also earn a rather violent demise by my hand," Tyki mumbled under his breath, uncaring whether or not the raging hermaphrodite heard him or not. "And by 'we', I'm referring to the Stop & Shop Gods. They live in the ceiling."

Allen bit his tongue in order to prevent himself from bursting with laughter. Jasdero attempted to mask his giggles over his blaring ringtone as he continued to text-message. Kanda wasn't fortunate enough to possess a sweatshirt or cell phone to hide his disdain behind, so instead he gaped.

"So let me fucking get this straight," Kanda started, his hand already over his forehead as if Tyki's words were too complex for him to grasp. "You're under the impression that there are Gods in the ceiling, and that there's a huge fucking sale on every ice cream flavors besides chocolate?"

"Precisely. And may I mention that you're very inconsistent with your intelligence level when you speak," Tyki nodded, envisioning buying a Golden Retriever named "Skip" with Allen when they lived in their California dream house together.

"How much percent off are the ice creams?"

"Kanda!" Allen interceded before Tyki could bullshit a percentage, slamming his oblivious partner into the cart as he exclaimed. "We're going to miss the engagement party if you go any slower!"

Crap. The word "slower" could be easily be related to taking up large portions of time, which then went hand-in-hand with the ten minutes that were long over, which would then lead to Kanda remembering their little bet, and would end in Allen adorning a frilly maid costume and kissing his partner's feet for an entire week.

"Fuck," Kanda muttered. "I'm fucking getting vanilla ice cr-"

"-Strawberry. Get _strawberry_ ice cream," Allen corrected, tapping his foot against the multicolored tiled floor.

"Neapolitan it is."

"No, dimwit. Get strawberry!"

"Blueberry?"

"Strawberry - and stop wasting time!" Suddenly, the time variable was more important to Allen than the cakes, the engagement party, and even getting away from Tyki without being raped. Too bad he was already out of it.

"Stop tormenting your blue ribbon and just buy him what he wants," Tyki interceded. Kanda's banters had already cost him a good thirty seconds of flirting with the man's lover. That meant that their love affair would always be thirty seconds short of what it could have been.

Tyki couldn't wait until Allen and him were married in California, owned Skip, and adopted five snot-nosed children. Life would be sweet.

"You're going to be a great fucking father one day," Kanda growled, his feral tendencies taking over. He knew he had to stake his claim by protecting the Beansprout that he had rightfully found and loved first.

"Yes, yes I will be," Tyki hummed; only half-registering what he said, as images of his five soon-to-be children on skateboards, watching mind-numbing television, and being tickled by Allen invaded his rational thought. Allen would make such a great wife and mother – despite the fact that he didn't have a uterus.

"Jesus, you're fucked up," Kanda retorted, trying to block out the thoughts of Tyki hammering Allen from his subconscious. Turning to his beloved Sprout, Kanda whispered: "If he tries to touch you, pretend you're in a video game and shoot that mother up."

"I'll be fine," Allen rolled his eyes, shoving Kanda's face away from his. "Just go get the _strawberry_ ice cream so we can go home."

"And I can rape you?"

"_No_, so we can re-bake the cakes, and go to the party on time."

"The rape is unavoidable," Kanda smirked, a bout of love suddenly pumping through his veins, and forcing his hand to rest upon Allen's head, tousling his hair.

"We'll see what the cops have to say about that," Allen grinned, pushing Kanda in the direction of the frozen food aisle.

"We'll see what the cops can find after your body is in the meat grinder."

"Just go buy the stupid ice cream, _Fag_anda."

"I'm going to put royphnol in your ice cream."

"I'm going to put poison in your soba," Allen threatened as Kanda walked away, taking his good old time. "And your breath smells like rotten artichoke, jeez!" He called after him, throwing a stick of Jasdero's sweet mint gum at the man's butt.

"Your relationship is to die for," Tyki commented, twirling a chocolate coil in-between his coffee-tinted fingertips.

"So is yours with those rainbow pipe cleaners."

Ouch. That was unnecessary.

"So, what's your view on children?" Tyki drawled; his eyes half-lidded. He bet that he could seduce Allen to run away to California with him just by gazing longingly into his eyes. It worked with countless others in the past.

"Wait… _what_?" Allen blinked, almost choking on his gum. He spat its desecrated remains onto the floor.

"I'm thinking around five, _beautiful_ children – well, they will be a far cry from your unmatched allure, of course."

"How is this relevant to scanning the food in the cart at all?" Allen groaned, trying to ignore the cashier's bizarre-yet-personal question.

"We can adopt," Tyki offered. He refused to let this slide until he found the answer.

"Let it go! I'm not adopting kids with you!" Allen complained.

The familiar sound of a cell phone emitting metal music graced their ears as Jasdero spoke up. "Devi says that Allie's going to adopt kiddies with the Sissy-man. Uncle Tyki's got some competition, _hee!_"

"Is this true?" Tyki demanded; using a tone of voice more suited fit for a man interrogating his lover if he was cheating or not, rather than a creepy pervert questioning a cute customer about his personal beliefs.

"Well, um, it's a rather touchy topic for Kanda. He doesn't like children – and we're barely getting by as it is. I'm practically a kid myself," Allen had already voiced his mind before he remembered whom he was revealing his sob story _to_. "Crap. Ignore everything I just said."

"Well, I _love_ children," Tyki smirked, his fingers sliding off of his hair. "I also have a mansion in California. I call it _The Big Kahuna._"

The unspoken line of: 'That's not the only big thing I have,' was implied.

"And that's why you work for minimum wage at a Super Stop & Shop in this town. Uh-huh, I see."

"I'll be able to provide for you," The cashier stated, his voice low and deep.

"Because five dollars and fifteen cents per hour is enough to care for a nineteen-year-old in a University."

"I'll spoil you rotten," Tyki 's seductive demeanor cracked as his target plunged knives into his heart.

"I like being fresh, thanks."

"I'll get you a dog."

"I'm allergic," Allen lied.

"I'll love you," He added, his fingers reaching for a lock of Allen's soft hair.

"I don't want your creepy, stalker-ish love."

"I'll give you everything," He continued, his hands lunging for Allen's face rather than his hair. As his nails dug into the delicate flesh of the boy's cheeks, he brought their lips inches apart. Allen swallowed as Tyki whispered his final, glorious offer: "I'll _pleasure_ you."

"Holy shit!" Allen promptly slapped Tyki's cheek as he backed up into the counter of register four. "What's _wrong_ with you? We just met – I don't even know you!"

"You're living with a man who will one day rape you – if he hasn't already," Tyki declared, envisioning himself dunking Kanda's dark head underneath the waves of the pool that _would_ have been in his California dream home if Allen had just said yes.

How he'd _love_ to sick the now-unobtainable Skip on Kanda, and watch him rip off his limbs and use them as Frisbees. How beautiful the sight of watching his five children cannibalize the home-wrecking violator would be.

"I'll buy you the camera you're eyeing in that catalogue," Tyki offered in desperation, shrugging his shoulders.

"How about you finish scanning the food in the cart, and we'll discuss whether I call the cops or not," Allen smiled sweetly, patting Tyki's hand. The cashier's fingers tingled as the boy graced it with a touch.

Tyki silently thanked the Gods in the ceiling for allowing Allen to eat the cakes (or whatever his reason for coming to the supermarket was). If the boy hadn't, he wouldn't have come to the supermarket; and then Tyki wouldn't have known the inexplicable, insurmountable feeling of falling in love with someone you only knew for under fifteen minutes.

Allen pulled his hand away from Tyki's as he watched the man's face brighten as if he were engaged in the most erotic of pleasurable experiences.

"If your private area doesn't quit rising over _my_ Beansprout, I'll personally rip it off," Kanda growled, abruptly returning to Allen's side. He slammed the three cartons of ice cream in his arms onto the counter in front of Tyki.

There were cartons of vanilla; Neapolitan; and, much to Tyki's dismay, _strawberry_.

Tyki would make sure that Kanda died an ice cream-induced death.

"If your 'private area' doesn't stop hurting _my_ future bride, I'll personally freeze it," To prove his point, Tyki indicated towards aisle five from which Kanda had recently returned.

"_Your_ bride? Tch, fat chance," Kanda smirked before he wrapped his arms around his lover's waist and brought their lips together. Jasdero whooped and cheered them on as their kiss deepened. Allen allowed his suddenly heavy eyelids to slide shut, as he slipped into his little piece of Heaven. Kanda always tasted like a mixture of stir-fry, noodles, and the sweet flavor of love.

Kanda sucked on the bottom of Allen's lip before finally breaking away.

"Does my breath still smell like 'rotten artichoke,' Sprout?" Kanda insinuated, pushing the gum he was chewing to the side of his mouth as he pressed his lips to Allen's once more. Tyki openly gagged.

"I can't really respond if you keep on using your lips to interrupt me," Allen whispered into the side of his lover's mouth before planting a sloppy kiss on said spot. Tyki felt his eyes roll back into his skull. "No, now it smells like some disgusting sweet mint and rotten artichoke hybrid, stupid."

"You're impossible to please, dipshit."

"Your lips taste even worse than your miasma."

"How about you taste my lips, Allen?" Tyki purred, puckering his lips. "I'm sure you'll find them much more… ah_, appealing_."

Jasdero's cheering became deafening after the last word rolled off of Tyki's tongue.

"He'll bite those slugs off," Kanda snapped, his right hand twitching. The desire to slash the cashier's throat was returning back to his thoughts; like a former childhood sweetheart knocking on his door; asking if he would like to re-bond over hot tea, crumpets, and plotting Tyki's brutally violent demise.

"Don't entice me," Tyki glared, his hand rather conspicuously reaching for the tape beside him. "I'll rip yours off with this tape - I'm sure Allen wouldn't want to kiss nonexistent lips."

"Oh, you got burned," Jasdero called from the sidelines. "Devi says that the score so far is Uncle Tyki: one, and Sissy-Man: zero."

"Guys, stop! I'm not some item that you can haggle over!" Allen shouted over "No Air" on the radio. "Sheesh, what's wrong with both of you?"

"You're not an item, you're a plant," Kanda proclaimed, never tearing his eyes away from the intense stare he was sharing with Tyki. "So make like a Beansprout and _shut the fuck up _while I handle this bastard who's trying to rip your roots out from my fucking garden."

"_Hee!_" Jasdero giggled in delight from the safety of his assigned register. This was almost as amusing as the time when Devi locked the mentally impaired girl in the men's room last Saturday.

"How can you allow him to speak to you like that?" Tyki pouted, brushing stray bangs out from Allen's eyes.

"Touch him again and I swear to the 'Shop & Stop Gods,' you'll _pay_."

"Speaking of pay," Allen interrupted, lightly pushing Tyki's hand away. "How much does everything cost?" He had recently noticed that the cashier had been done scanning the items – meaning that all they had to do was pay and the get Hell out of there.

"Well," Tyki grinned, as if it was the grand event. "It could cost you one of two things."

"One of two things!" Jasdero echoed, his chin resting in the cup of his hands as he leaned on top of the register to get a better view of the spectacle.

"It's a discount _exclusive_ for you, pet."

"I don't like the sound of this," Allen laughed, masking his uncertainty. If his foster father hadn't conditioned him to be polite twenty four-seven, Tyki would need a hearing aid due to all of the profanity Allen would unmercifully shove into his ears.

"You'll like the _taste_ of it," Tyki suggested, licking his lips for emphasis.

Kanda groaned before wrapping his hand around Allen's hip, anchoring him beside him. The man flashed Tyki a knowing smirk before mouthing: 'Tyki: one, Kanda: one.'

Allen was so going to spray a household inhalant into Kanda's eyes when (or if) they arrived home.

"You can either pay two-hundred and eighty-three dollars upfront," He trailed off, allowing the rather large number to sink in before continuing. "Or," A smirk, "You can use that sweet little mouth of yours to pay off your debt to me."

"A kiss?" Allen stared, his knees quaking slightly, and his vision going in and out of focus. Cross had always warned him that he would one day encounter a persistent pedophile if he wasn't careful. For once, his drunken piano teacher was – dare he say it – _right._

"I don't bite," Tyki purred, leaning over the counter. His eyelids glided shut as he leaned in closer, his lips puckering once more.

"The plot thickens!" A booming voice on the intercom declared, followed by an immature laugh. "Who will our little Allen-whore choose? The hot pedo, or the abusive girl?"

"Devi's too funny!" Jasdero shouted, flipping his head back to the ceiling as if he were waiting for the Shop & Stop Gods to swoop down and envelop him in their arms.

"I try," The not-so-anonymous voice replied.

"Mikk, I'll throw up in your mouth if you kiss me," Allen finally disclosed, placing the Best Buy catalogue in between his lips and Tyki's.

"I'd rather pay you all of the Sprout's fucking useless college money than watch your lips molest his," Kanda snarled. Allen expected to see brownish fur sprout out of his lover's back, a snout to form where his mouth was, and his teeth to morph into a canine's – his demeanor was that ferocious.

"Oh, my mistake. There was no sale on the ice cream," Tyki huffed, pressing a key on the register. "That makes your total amount actually two-hundred and ninety-two dollars."

"Uncle Tyki: two, Sissy-Man: one," Devito spoke through the intercom once more, announcing the current score.

"How expensive is one box of ice cream, exactly?" Allen mumbled more to the floor than to Tyki, as he fished around in Kanda's coat pocket for a wallet.

"Worth more than your poor excuse-for-a-life-partner, I'll give you that much," Tyki flashed an irresistible smile in Allen's direction, extending a hand for the money they owed.

"That is fucking _it!"_ Kanda hollered, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans for Mugen. Allen, who had been anticipating this, caught his lover's arm before he made the grave mistake.

"There are security cameras here, Kanda!" Allen scolded, holding the man's arm back with surprising strength.

"So if there weren't, you'd let me facelift this mother?" Kanda snarled, prying Allen's small fingers from their lethal grip around his ridiculous bicep.

"Um, is that even a question at this point?"

"Uncle Tyki: _zero_, Sissy-Man: fi-"

"-Will you shut the fuck up already?" Kanda barked to the ceiling.

"You don't tell Zeus to 'shut the fuck up'," Devito snapped through the speakers, interrupting "Poker Face."

"Oh no you _didn't!_" Jasdero screeched in a voice louder than his cell phone's ringtone, and snapped his fingers in a "Z-formation." Flipping his blonde mane over his shoulders, Jasdero began to record the scene before him with his cell phone. This was _so_ going in the family Christmas video.

"Pay up," Tyki wiggled his fingers to prove his waning patience. Either money or Allen was being put into that hand – personally, the cashier was praying for the latter – and if that palm was still empty after thirty seconds, someone was going to die. That someone would just-so-happen to be Kanda.

Allen shrugged and smiled sheepishly at Kanda. "I'm broke."

"You're going to be _broken_," Kanda scoffed, though he was already reaching into his alternate jeans' pocket for his wallet. How Tyki would love to steal all of Kanda's possessions: that wallet, the gleaming Jaguar, _Allen_, and drive into the sunset.

"You'll be broken in a cell," Tyki smiled, his arm losing circulation, as it remained suspended in the air for another minute.

Kanda's frown twitched, and he almost reached for Mugen.

_Dear God, please don't let them kill each other,_ Allen begged God – no, not the Stop & Shop Gods or Devito – for deliverance as he hastily began to shove the food into yellow baggies. The faster he packed the items, the faster they would _get the fuck out of there_.

His pace only quickened as he heard the malevolent sound of Tyki's impeccable whistling reach his ears. Dear God, Kanda _hated_ whistlers.

Allen was so revoking his church membership as soon as he arrived home.

"If you don't have the money, you can always sell your delightful lover to me as payment," Tyki leered, his eyes flickering to Allen as he offered him a wink. The soon-to-be-rape-victim tore the plastic bag he was holding in half.

"I'd rather _die_," Kanda deadpanned, his hand snaking into his back pocket again. Allen quickly stopped his attempt by hurling the Best Buy magazine at him.

"Well, if you don't have the money, then I suppose you can't bake those cakes," Tyki snarled, the underlying, unadulterated hatred in his tone seemed as if it would turn his saliva into acid, and would burn Kanda if he spat at him. This only prompted Allen to stuff the food in the bags faster.

"I'll put it on my fucking charge, so put a sock in it."

"Commendable," Tyki sneered.

Their battle was so intense at this point, that even Jasdero and Devitto had stopped interjecting. Their loathing of one another was so pure that Allen could feel their auras of abhorrence from where he stood.

If he didn't finish packing soon, he would either wind up "adopting" kids with Tyki, or would be visiting Kanda in a jail cell.

"See? There you go," Kanda spat. Allen was legitimately shocked when his eyes didn't spontaneously combust due to how intense his glaring was. "Now I don't fucking owe you shit."

"You owe me your lover. You don't deserve to have him," Tyki drawled, his calm demeanor fracturing as hatred froze in its cracks. "Or, you could wash your mouth out with soap," He shrugged. "Either is acceptable."

"How about I shove that soap down your windpipe? Who the fuck will be laughing then?"

"Sure as Hell _we'll _be!" Devito hollered over this intercom, his speech distorted due to blatant chortles.

"I'll be laughing when you're in jail, and Skip is eating your bone marrow for a snack," Tyki's fingers twitched at the mere thought of his future dog sitting on a rug, chewing on his enemy's femur.

"Who the _fuck_ is Skip? Your Goddamn fuck-toy?"

"No, you fool. Skip is a dog. _Allen_ is my… 'Boy toy,' as Devito put it."

"Damn straight!" Devito chimed, his voice projecting through the entire supermarket. The sole woman walking inside the Stop & Shop covered her ears and ran out for dear life – her cart abandoned.

Allen almost vomited onto the package of applesauce he was loading. _Boy toy?_

"If you say that Allen is your fuck-buddy one more damn time, I swear…"

Tyki cocked his head, chestnut curls falling into his irresistible eyes, "You'll _what_? Berate me with unintelligent words until I convulse? Well, I'll have to commend you: You're doing a swell job of it already."

"My knife will be so far up your ass that-"

"-Kanda," Allen interceded, the pleading in his voice evident. "Can you please pass down the cart?"

"What? Oh, um, sure," As Kanda pushed the cart towards Allen; he turned his attention back to his enemy. "Where was I? Oh, right. It'll be so far up your ass that you'll be shitting shards of my blade for a week."

Tyki made a scene of dramatically yawning, and glancing down at his nails. "How you managed to score someone like Allen will forever elude me."

Allen winced. Without a doubt, Kanda would run out of the supermarket with bloodied hands, or Allen would need to find a job to support himself.

"Want to test me?" Kanda hissed, the left corner of his lip twitching. Allen grimaced. The signature lip-twitch could only mean that Kanda was either about to use his knifelike nails to slit someone's throat, or that he suspected Allen was guilty of hiding his alcohol again. Allen didn't know which of the choices would be the lesser of two evils.

"Kanda, settle down," Allen spoke in a barely-audible whisper as he shoved the last few bags into the cart. If he could just get the last ten bags of food into the wagon before one of the feral defilers graphically repainted the floor in the other's blood, then they would get out scot free.

"Yes," Tyki purred, flicking deviating curls away from his thick eyelashes. "You should follow my delightful Allen's example, and _relax _in my presence."

Allen refrained from tearing out Tyki's tongue and feeding it to Timcanpy as a welcome home treat.

The right side of Kanda's mouth twitched. Allen had a good thirty seconds to finish packing before Mugen was through Tyki's throat, or Kanda's body was disemboweled and used as the "secret ingredient" in Tyki and his wedding cake.

"I already claimed the hole," Kanda growled, his words semi-audible over the sheer loathing in his voice.

"You claimed it in the name of the civilization of 'Sausage Jockey'?" The cashier-with-a-death-wish asserted, knowingly using rare slang to depict Kanda's sexuality. "Can I check to see if there is a flag marking this claim as _your_s_?"_

"Fuck this," Kanda snarled, his hand already wrapped around Mugen – with every intention to plunge it through Tyki's jugular. Before he could taste the euphoric feeling of Tyki's blood running through his hands, something latched itself onto his horrendously large bicep. Kanda glared down at this new interruption, prepared to kill whatever _idiot_ would attempt to touch him while he was trying to protect his Beansprout.

Imagine Kanda's surprise when he discovered that the very "Beansprout" he had been trying to defend, was the one who dared to stop him.

"I finished packing," Allen stated blandly, tugging at Kanda's arm. "So we can leave," A pause. "_Now."_

Placing a hand on Allen's forehead and pushing him away, Kanda grunted. "I'm just going to use Mugen to teach him to never fuck around with me-" Allen glared. "And _you_ too, selfish Sprout."

"Take your hand off Mugen, because our love won't last if you're in a cell for first degree murder," Allen remarked, refusing to relinquish his hold on Kanda's arm, despite the fact that his neck felt as if it were about to snap.

"Oh? Feel free to stab me, then," Tyki snickered. "Twenty years if you hit my abdominals - fifty for the heart."

Kanda flinched.

"No matter how enticing Mikk's offer may be," Allen hurriedly commented before Kanda pulled Mugen out. "Don't accept it."

"But Kanda," Tyki smiled, patting his flawless pectoral. "If you accept my offer, I'll be gone. _Forever."_

The "so will you" was implied, though Kanda was either too dimwitted, or to consumed by rage to care.

"If you accept it," Allen vomited the words before he had a chance to think about what exactly he was saying. "Then he'll be spending a _lifetime _of me being his bitch, while you won't even have tonight."

He said it. It was done, and so was his mobility.

"Oh! It's a tough offer, folks!" Devito hollered through the intercom, his interest peaked. Secretly, the boy was crossing his fingers that Kanda stabbed Tyki just to add to the action. There wasn't enough blood in supermarkets these days.

Allen wondered why this Stop & Shop's employees were so adamant about cursing, provoking their customers to murdering them, and trying to woo the underage boys.

Kanda looked quizzical, as if he were deep in thought over his decisions.

"Don't be an idiot, Kanda," Allen whispered, reaching his hand up to push stray hairs behind Kanda's ear. "Let's go home, bake those cakes, and have a…" He tried to find the proper word to depict what Kanda was planning on doing to him, without making it seem as if he were against it. "_Rocking_ night."

His words were true; the bed would be rocking that night.

Tyki scoffed, crossing his arms over his impeccable chest. He already had his entire life story planned out. After he'd "narrowly" survive having his aorta punctured due to Kanda's Mugen, he'd be considered a veteran (no one would need to know about the fact that Tyki was a two-don black belt). He would be on the five o' clock news, would get a few grainy snapshots in the paper, and would sue Kanda for all of his money, his house, and most importantly: his lover. After Kanda was safely behind bars where he couldn't stab nor rape the innocent, Allen would instantly fall in love with Tyki.

They _would_ live in their California Dream house, after all. They _would_ accept Skip into the family with open arms and pig ears. They _would_ adopt their five children.

They would die in each other's arms: happy, fulfilled, and in love.

Kanda just needed to attempt to stab him and seal the deal.

Tyki smirked as Kanda began to pull Mugen out from his pocket. It was over. The perfect life, Skip, the children, and _Allen_ was his.

Flipping Tyki the middle finger, Kanda let the unstained Mugen slide back into his pocket. "Come on, Sprout," He smirked, finally pushing Allen off from his arm. As Allen stepped back, Kanda slipped his hand into his. He squeezed his hand just enough to let Allen know that he loved him, but not enough for him to think that he was off the hook. Hand-in-hand, Kanda and Allen walked towards the automatic door, the androgynous victor smiling slyly at Tyki all the while.

The stunned cashier blinked, grit his teeth, and held his breath as the bitter taste of defeat raped his taste buds more violently every second that Allen was tugged closer to the exit.

"Um, Kanda," Allen murmured, as his partner dragged him away from the fuming, homoerotic cashier. "We kind of need to get the cart before we go. Just a thought."

"Tch, then fucking get it – _fast_," Kanda forewarned, still glaring at Tyki from his position in front of the automatic door. "I don't want you breathing the same air as the Mikk-Flurry for too long."

"Those nicknames have got to stop," Allen smiled at Kanda, saluting him as he walked back to reclaim the forgotten cart. With every step that he took closer to the creepy cashier, however, the smile on his face dissolved more and more into a paranoia-induced frown. The uncanny grin on Tyki's face said nothing other than: 'I'm going to exploit you; chain your ankles to my bed; and melt candle wax on your bare chest.'

Allen inhaled as he reached the cart. Tyki's amber eyes caressed Allen's high cheekbones; his silver eyes; and, of course, the polar bear on the seat of his pajama pants, as the uncomfortable boy wrapped his hand around the handle of the cart.

"I'll be taking this, now," Allen half-mumbled, just to crack the awkward-ridden, undoubtedly sedative-laced ice between them.

A faint smile playing on his lips, Tyki rather gently placed the yellow shopping bag containing the eggs on top of the large pile of food in the cart.

There was no way that Allen could leave him, there was just no way. They'd been through so much together already. They'd shared a moment in the bathroom when Allen had revealed his vulnerability to him. He'd expressed his discomfort in being that transvestite's consort when he'd yelled at him for groping his rear. Allen had almost accepted Tyki's offer to run off into the California sunset with him - he was just afraid to take his hand in illegal marriage due to his "lover's" influence.

They were so in love, and yet they were forced to live in a game of red rover due to the opposing team member's reluctance to stop running through their holding hands.

Well, maybe it was an unrequited love. Maybe. Perhaps he was coming on too strong, Tyki could admit. Yet, despite his flaws, Allen was standing in front of him; offering him one more chance. He could have easily sent Kanda back here to rescue the cart from his clutches, but no. _Allen_ had come back for it, not Kanda. Allen was right here, sharing an awkward smile with him while looking as if he wanted to claw out his own viscera, but he was _there._

The only reasonable answer was that he loved him. Tyki had to admit, his logic was flawless. Either that, or he seriously was some psychotic man who was suffering with Erotomania – but what were the chances of that?

Tyki frantically tore out the picture of the camera that Allen wanted from the Best Buy magazine, and wrote down his cell phone number on the back of the paper.

"Well, um, bye now," Allen forced the sentence out of his mouth. He didn't want to say anything to this hobo, and yet he couldn't just leave without saying anything, it just wasn't his nature.

From his peripheral vision, Allen noted Kanda cracking his knuckles, mouthing the question-of-the-night: 'Why are you still there?'

Why _was_ he still there?

Tyki swore he felt his retinas bleed as Allen began to wheel the cart back to Kanda. He had made his choice. He'd rather a lowly, angry man than a ritzy house, a gorgeous dog, and sweet children.

The love of Tyki's life that he had met a brief twenty minutes ago had chosen Kanda over him, and it was his final answer. No asking the audience, no phoning a friend, no second chances. Allen gave up being a millionaire for a man with both male and female parts.

"Final score," Devito announced for the last time. "Kanda: Over nine-thousand, Uncle Tyki: zilch, zip, nada. Tune in next time, fuckers!"

Anger abruptly committing mutiny and dominating his rational thought, Tyki latched his arm around Allen's, yanking him back into his rightful place in front of him.

"Holy fucking Jesus shit!" Kanda discharged an onslaught of profanity from his mouth as he reached for his back pocket yet again. "Burn with Satan!"

Deciding not to mention said Satan was located in the _freezing_ ninth circle of Hell, Tyki stared intently and longingly into Allen's clear eyes. They were close enough so that Tyki could see the flecks of blue in the boy's gray eyes. Lust pumping throughout him and dictating his every movement, he drew Allen closer to him, his hands trailing down to the small of his back. Their lips were inches apart, and Tyki longed to shorten the distance. The unnaturally gorgeous cashier smirked. In return, Allen almost vomited.

Allen decided that he'd let pervert voice his famous last words instead of pummeling him and calling it a day.

"When you're done screwing around with the unworthy," Tyki purred, his breath warming Allen's cheeks. He opened Allen's hand, and placed a crumpled piece of paper into his palm. He closed Allen's fingers around the paper adorning his number. "Call me," He whispered, pressing his lips to the conch of Allen's small ear.

When Allen used to have nightmares about being violated, he'd never imagined it would happen on a conveyer belt in the supposed haven of a supermarket.

Before Tyki could consummate their love, they were separated yet again. All in one swift, violent motion, Kanda shoved them away from one another. If looks could pour acid into someone's veins, Tyki would have been dying a graphic, gruesome death. After Kanda deemed that Tyki had sent he insurmountable hatred in his glare, he whirled to face his lover. Allen blinked up at him.

Making sure that he had his rival in love's undivided attention, Kanda grabbed the paper out of Allen's hand, which he proceeded to brutally shred. Throwing it onto the floor, Kanda relentlessly stamped it into the multicolored ground, grunting in some form of sadistic pleasure as he did so. Even Allen winced as Kanda pivoted his foot as he crushed it into dust. To add emphasis to the fact that he hated Tyki's guts, Kanda picked the assassinated paper from the floor and spit his gum into it. Just when he was about to crush it under his great heel once more, Allen piped up.

"We get your point, Kanda," Allen stated, shuddering. Kanda gave him an odd look before returning his attention to the abused paper. "Kanda – _Kanda_, _we get it. _You don't have to decimate it anymore._"_

Throwing the mistreated paper at Tyki's feet, Kanda turned his attention back to the man who said feet belonged to; whose expression of pure shock was so priceless, that Allen longed for the camera whose picture Kanda had recently pummeled.

"The only time we'll be getting a call involving you is when a fucking lawyer calls us to testify you and your pedophiliac ass in court, Mikk."

Allen was legitimately happy – well, at least something along the lines of that - that he had far superseded ten minutes so he had an excuse to down on his hands and knees to kiss Kanda's feet for an entire week– he was that proud. "That's my lover, you know," The boy grinned to the wide-eyed Jasdero from register three, indicating to Kanda.

"Oh, well, that just about wraps it up, folks!" Devito sang into the intercom, his words incoherent due to his laughter.

"This was the best reality dating show ever, _hee!"_ Jasdero squealed, lowering his phone and ending the recording.

Tyki blinked, inhaled, and refrained from doing something that would land him in federal prison.

"Now then," Kanda remarked, facing his beloved boyfriend once more. "Let's get the fuck out of this Hell," Before Allen could reply, Kanda lifted him off of his feet, and tossed him over his shoulder. Kanda could just _feel_ envy emanating off of Tyki's impeccable body.

"Kanda!" Allen exclaimed, attempting to reposition himself to get comfortable – or at least something close to it. "I can walk. Seriously, my back hurts."

"Endure it," Kanda snarled just loud enough for Tyki to hear, as he pushed the cart along. "I'm bragging to the Mikker-Fucker."

"Can't you just kiss me rather than breaking my spine?"

"Tch, no."

As they walked out of the Super Stop & Shop for the final time, the champion flipped the stunned loser the bird as a consolation prize. "Moral: This Beansprout belongs to Kanda Yu. And Kanda Yu _only_," Kanda read his mental victory speech aloud, slapping his jackpot's butt for emphasis.

Yelping, Allen jammed his foot into Kanda's chest. "Stop groping me! Holy crap!"

Ignoring his partner's distress, breaking back, and irritation, Kanda stomped out of the supermarket, an aura of blinding victory in his wake.

As Tyki and Allen locked eyes, the cashier pressed his thumb to his ear and his pinky to his glossy lips. 'Call me.'

As Kanda took one step out into the twilight air of the outside world, Allen mouthed: 'Not in this life.'

With that, the duo escaped from the potential rapist, a seemingly escaped mental hospital inmate, and the God-modding twin.

After a total of twenty-three minutes, eighteen seconds, and thirty-seven milliseconds; Kanda and Allen finally walked out of the Super Stop & Shop. They were free.

"Touch my butt without warning one more time, and I'm locking you naked in a room with Lavi," Allen threatened through gritted teeth after he could feel fresh air on his face.

"Fine," Kanda snorted, flipping Allen off of his shoulder, and onto the compact parking lot ground. "I was just doing that to show off to the Rapist-Mikk-Donald anyway."

"What scares me the most is that you actually think you're funny," Allen grimaced, picking himself off of the ground. When Allen didn't get a rude response in four seconds, he discovered that Kanda couldn't hear him over the threats he was muttering under his breath.

Straining to listen, Allen heard a colorful array of words pop up. Intelligent words and phrases such as "crucify," "cellophane," "bleed to death from iTunes gift cards' paper cuts," and "Sprout" spring up. Allen wished he still had the earmuffs.

They walked in silence – Kanda was too lost in his pool of profanity to communicate and Allen was biting his tongue. Allen pushed the cart along, looking down at its contents. There were no words of consolation that he could offer to his ticked (though "ticked" was an understatement) partner. It wasn't as if Allen had enjoyed Tyki's flirtatious and perverted gestures. Why would he when he had Kanda? Did Kanda really think he wasn't committed?

Just because Kanda constantly threatened to rape, murder, and shave him bald didn't mean that Allen loved him any less, or would ever cheat on him. He loved Kanda – why couldn't he just realize that he would never move away to go live with Tyki in some fabricated house? Why would he when he was perfectly happy living in a real house with the person he loved more than anything?

They were nearing the Jaguar, and none of them had spoken a word to their significant, homosexual other.

"Oi, Sprout."

Eagerly looking up from the plastic, yellow bags, Allen's eyes rested on Kanda. "Hn?"

Kanda stopped walking forward, and the curses he was expelling ceased as he closed the faucet of profanity. He faced Allen, placing one hand on a thin hip, and tilting his head to the side. "Why aren't you bashing my ass with the cart anymore?"

The dam that was blockading Allen's love for Kanda broke as the man spoke. Relentless, sweet love flooded Allen and drowned him in its current. Allen loved Kanda. Despite all of his flaws, his possessive streak, and his relentless cursing, Allen loved him more than anyone.

Besides, this meant that Kanda forgot about the fact that they had been inside the supermarket for thirteen minutes extra.

Allen's face lit up as he prepared himself to smash Kanda again. "Why didn't you just ask?" Kanda and Allen loved to bump butts.

"But, before you do," Kanda spoke slowly, covering the distance between them in two strides. The unnerving smirk on his face and the unusual flare of his hip as he walked could only signify something bad for Allen… or worse: his backside. Placing his hand over Allen's on the cart's handle, Kanda's Tyki-like grin morphed into something unclassifiable. In a matter of seconds, the dominant partner had shoved Allen off of the cart, and had rammed it into his rear, pinning him against the trunk of the car. As if on cue, the Jaguar's blaring alarm went off.

"Kanda! That hurt! And is this some kind of bizarre dominance thing for you?" Perhaps Kanda truly did have a superiority complex – after all, he this was around the third time today that he had shoved Allen into a counter, cereal shelf, or trunk. "Unless you want me to be deaf, you should turn this alarm off!" Allen wailed over the eardrum-cracking alarm. His words went unheeded and unregistered, as the wagon was pressed closer to him, pinning him to the trunk even more so.

"This pain isn't going to be a tenth of tonight's – and _this week's_ punishment, bitch," Kanda sneered, the surplus of confidence and undiluted pleasure in his tone were unmistakable.

Allen prayed that an asteroid would collide into Earth at that very moment, create another Chicxulub crater, and murder all mankind – Kanda and his domineering manhood inclusive.

"Come on, Kanda! We were only in there for a minute over-"

"-A minute plus twelve, dumbass," Kanda grimaced, shoving the cart deeper into Allen's backside. He didn't stop until Allen groaned. Tyki really must have rubbed off on him.

"I can't even hear you over the alarm! Make it stop!"

"It's not going to stop, Beansprout," A smirk. "Not until the end of this week, at least."

"Kanda, you _can't_ be serious!" Allen complained, flailing his limbs to express his displeasure. "We were only in there for so long because you were brawling with Mikk!"

"Our fight was over your sorry ass, Sprout," Kanda instantly retorted. Pushing the cart away, Kanda used his body to trap Allen against the trunk. He scowled as he repositioned himself behind his lover. The alarm _was_ ridiculously loud. "Since it was over you, that means that _you_ – not the Mikk-phile, 'Guardian Devi,' or the 'Stop & Shop Gods' – kept me in there over ten minutes."

"Do what you want - just turn the alarm off! I can't hear myself think!"

"You'll certainly hear yourself _scream_," Kanda interjected, nipping at Allen's ear. "It's going to be a good week."

Kanda was right about one thing: Allen did hear his own anguish-torn screams over the car alarm.

--

They had been in the car for only three minutes, and Allen already had tried to behead himself by sticking his head out the window thrice. Kanda had to put on the child safety lock to ensure that the Beansprout didn't kill himself before he had his way with him.

Allen slumped in the passenger seat. He couldn't believe that he had once been worried about being immobile for a few days, after Kanda's "fun" tonight. Now, his entire walking career was as dim and gray as his chances to hop the border to escape.

Looking down at the eggs in his lap, Allen wondered if he could stuff one inside his mouth and choke. He had decided to hold them in his lap due to personal experience with them cracking and staining the backseat of Lavi's convertible – it had cost him Kanda's entire week's pay to replace (though his lover had never discovered where the missing money had gone).

Allen pulled the carton out of the shopping bag, praying that he could swallow and hopefully choke on an egg. As he did so, he noticed the receipt lying on top of said carton.

_That freaking psycho-cashier probably overcharged us,_ Allen grimaced, yanking the receipt from the bag so he could double-check it. As he lifted it into the light and read it, Allen almost threw up all over it.

What the _Hell?_

Not only was the receipt covered in pen-made hearts and Tyki's name, but it also was sporting a list of numbers. There were numbers labeled "cell," "home," "work," "fax," and "adoption agency." On the back of the graffiti-ridden receipt, there were the words: "Call me, pet."

At least their fireplace would be fed tonight.

Before Allen could think of the best possible way to destroy the paper, a brilliant idea sparkled and blossomed in his mind. While he was sure that Kanda was too focused on avoiding road rage to notice him, he slid the receipt into his pocket.

Those numbers just might come in handy some day…

* * *

Whoever is the first to guess what I was wearing while writing this gets a prize. No, seriously. I mean it. (Hint: It's an outfit one of the characters is wearing...)

At 7:01 PM tonight, I will have been wasting the Earth's resources for fourteen years! :D :D :D


	5. Chapter 5

Howdy hi, denizens of this site! I am well aware of the fact that this message comes as a ridiculously belated pixel obituary, but I wanted to formally announce the following regardless: **I am discontinuing this fanfiction, as well as all of my others**.

Whether you're a loyal fan who has patiently waited through these almost-two years in hopes of a potential update, a new-time reader, or a random surfer who felt the undeniable compulsion to click on this, I felt the need to inform you. The mineral of writing fanfiction has really lost its luster for me, dwindling down to a dull glimmer. Despite the fact that the vestiges of my thirteen-year-old eccentric allegories/run-sentences still remain (see: this sentence), I don't feel any compulsion to finish this work, nor do I want to, as I have long since fell out of every fandom I used to write for, and the risk of plagiarism expedites when I post my work publically. D:

(I may finish this story and my others if I ever am feeling nostalgic, but for the time being the likelihood of that is borderlining on probably not.)

I'm sorry (again)! I hope that you all can forgive me for discontinuing this, and making you wait as long as you did for word to finally come out. To be frank, writing this notice was pretty painful for me, as I feel horrifically guilty already, but I thought it would be worse to perennially leave some of you in suspended animation, waiting for the email signifying my stories' updated status. I'm really, really sorry. I mean that.

However! I have met many very friendly, kind people via this outlet (some of whom I still maintain close contact with today), and I don't want to just let my cyber-friends slip by the wayside to sit in mud and, over time, go back into the earth to become fossil fuels or something. If you're really curious as to what was going to go down in these fics, want to ask me a question pertaining to them, or just want to know what color socks I'm wearing,** I have no qualms whatsoever about any of you contacting me**!

My e-mail address is beansproutted(at)gmail(dot)com, and my tumblr account is talkabouttheweather. You can even send me a message through PM, if you so desire. If you want to be my friend or anything akin to such, please feel free to send me a mail or follow me on tumblr! I love all of you guys, and thank you so much for putting up with me and my… tardiness issues (understatement up to eleven, folks). Oh, and sorry if this comes off as pretentious ;;;;

Thank you so much, everyone! You have all stuck by me, been nothing but supportive and constructively critical, and all of you have helped me grow as a writer.

You—yes, _you_—are the best! :D

(Oh, and sorry if I fooled into thinking that this story was updated for real…)


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